Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder
by JerissicaCaryll
Summary: Calli had everything but the one thing she wanted. When both her parents are brutally murdered she must move across an ocean to try and get that one thing. A Schwarz fic. Yaoi implications. Being rewritten. TBC
1. Him and His Letters Rewritten

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
By: JerissicaCaryll

A Weiß Kreuz fanfic

Disclaimer: Weiss and Schwartz both belong to Koyasu, Seki, Hiro, and Miki. Calli, however, belongs to me.

Author's Notes: I initially wrote the first 21 chapters of this story over a year ago. I still think it's a good story but the writing isn't quite up to par with what how I write now so I'm rewriting it. Because I know you care. I only mention this because, if you've read the story before, parts have been changed and its better quality, and if you haven't read this before the rewritten and unrewritten parts are going to be just different enough to throw you. The story might not mesh quite right yet so I apologize in advance for that. And I also apologize for the fact that Calli is a tad bit odd, I can't seem to shake her offness. Please review, I really appreciate kind words but I love criticisms more, just be nice about them.

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The only time I ever liked my mother was when she used to tell me I reminded her of my father's brother. She would brush my black hair out of my face and say "You look so much like your Uncle." I don't know why I found it to be such a compliment. I'd never met my Uncle but somehow I knew it was a compliment. Even if she never meant it as one. She was always sad when she told me that. As if it made me even more of a disappointment then I knew I already was.

I asked her once why there were no pictures of my Uncle around. She bit her lip and chose her words very carefully. "I don't like him." She said. And for some reason that sparked my already volatile temper. I argued with her for several minutes about how I should have a picture of him. He was family, after all, and I should be allowed to meet this man I looked so much like. "Never," she told me, "He's walking evil, Calli. His is evil and every time he looks at you he's imagining you in your grave."

"No," I argued, "You're lying. He's imagining you in your grave." And I ran away from her, hid in my room and lost myself in cold computer text.

I never understood how my father put up with my mother's irrational hatred of his only brother. Then again I never understood how my father put up with my mother at all. I tried to mention it to him but he simply told me to listen to my mother. And, for some reason, I never asked again.

Sometimes, when my parents would go out, I would riffle through my father's desk. I don't know why, I was just strangely drawn to it as if there was something there I would find. And since I didn't know what I was looking for I don't think I ever found it. But hidden at the bottom of the largest drawer was a pile of letters, all of them addressed to me. I sat and stared at them for a long time, too afraid to open any of them. I didn't know who would be writing me and there was no clue on the outward envelope. Not a return address or, in some cases, any stamp at all as if they had just magically appeared at the bottom of my father's drawer. I finally put them back without opening a single one, only taking the top one and hiding it myself under the skirt of an old Japanese doll my grandmother had given me before she too had died, leaving me with no one but my mother and my father, when he was around.

It took me two months before I finally got up the courage to open the letter. I would take it out every night after my parents went to bed and stare at it, willing it to give up its secrets without my having to actually read it. I dreaded reading this letter with its odd international postage.

"Callidan," it read, "Such a beautiful name. I never tire of telling you that and because of it you are as well. Not that I don't believe that you would be beautiful without it.

"I sometimes wonder if you appreciate my letters. Do you run to the mailbox every day after school hoping there's another letter from me or do you dread them? Do you read them or do you stash them away unopened? Or do you just throw them away? No matter what the outcome I will never stop writing you. I know I don't always have much to say but I try and say everything that I have. I want you to know everything. And sometimes I don't want you to know anything. Keep you a perpetual child who never has to face the world in all its horrors. But I know I cannot shelter you. Certainly not from so far away. I'm sure you're parents are doing a good enough job on their own and trying to hide you away from adulthood.

"I had a dream about you last night. It was an interesting dream if you happen to believe that dreams are a window into the soul. We were in the park near my apartment. Cherry blossoms were in bloom and you were sitting on a park bench with the petals floating all around you. It was like a picture. I know I don't know what you look like but I can imagine. Imagine you as beautiful as your mother but with the extra bit of kindness that your father has always possessed in spades.

"For a while I just stood a watched you and after a minute you turned and looked at me. Your look was very stern, as if you were standing strong about something but I didn't know what it was. Then, after a bit, you lifted your arm and beckoned to me. And I went without consideration. You didn't stand up even when I was standing right in front of you. You kept staring where I had been as if your time hadn't quite caught up with mine. But when you did look up at me it wasn't a startled look or even the hard look you had been giving me before but one of gentle consideration. And that look suited you so much more than the one you had on before.

"I reached my hand down to help you up but you ignored it, instead reaching up to put your hand on my hip so when you did stand up we were very close together. But it didn't feel as inappropriate as I'm sure it was. Just felt natural, as if we were meant to stand so close we were touching.

"You kept considering me. Not looking me up and down but searching my eyes, looking for something that I don't think was there. I opened my mouth to say your name, I don't remember why, but you lifted the arm that wasn't on my waist to cover my lips. To tell me that words were unneccisary. And I understood better than I have understood anything in a long time. Then you stood up on your tip toes and kissed me. It was completely chaste but there was something there. That same consideration and searching. You were still looking for that thing in me that wasn't there.

"I didn't notice closing my eyes but I had because when I opened them you were looking at me again. We were still touching along our length but your hands were gone and one of them held a small dagger up to my chest. I could feel the cold steel through my suit but I wasn't surprised. Instead I felt relieved. You had the same sort of look, one of relief, as if you finally found what you were looking for. I should have been shocked or horrified but instead it was as if a weight had been lifted.

"And then I woke up.

"For a minute I was sad that the dream was over but the feeling passed and it was replaced with a feeling of satisfaction.

"I wrote most of this immediately after waking from my dream. Filling in the empty middle of my letter with a story that I felt compelled to tell you about. It still doesn't make much sense even now, a bit after the details started to fade, but I still feel like you should know about it.

"I'll admit to not having anything else to say so I'm going to end my letter now. I wish I had some fabulous tale of heroics to bestow upon you but I only have dreams. And I hope you aren't disappointed.

"I wish you could write me back, nothing would bring me more joy than to read about your days and know they're as uneventful as mine but you cannot. For this I have a hundred apologies, as always, but no solution. Tell your father that I say hello and give your mother as much love as she'll accept. That is of course, out of the little love that I have not already sent to you a hundred times.

"Yours Always, Uncle."

I reread the letter several times. I wanted more. I needed more. But it never occurred to be to go and get another letter or even check the mailbox to see if he wrote me again. In a way it was enough. He thought of me. He dreamed of me. It had to be enough. My only complaint was that he never told me his name.

My father acted like he didn't know I had taken the letter. But he did. And he was pleased.

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Please review! I appreciate criticisms.


	2. Their Death and My Rebirth Rewritten

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Pt 2

Author's/Rewrite Notes: If you read the original version of this chapter you'll probably note that a lot has been changed without really changing anything at all. I tried to express her character more while down playing what's going on. Also, since initially writing this chapter, I've experienced a great deal more emotional events so I had a better idea of how it feels so the second part of this chapter should make more sense. Problem is that by making it more realistic I also had to make it a great deal more vague. Eh. Doesn't matter, it helps the story unfold instead of just happening. Or so I tell myself. Funny how I always had a problem with this chapter because it seemed too short and now I've made it slightly shorter.

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I was 17 when my father began urging me to take up a more academic extracurricular. I had never taken a theatre class but with my father's blessing I finally broke down and tried out for our school play. A modern play, a comedy I had never heard of. And dragged my friends along with me.

On Tuesdays I usually came straight home as there wasn't any scheduled practices. But I didn't make it home that day earlier than two hours later than I usually walked in the door. I was excited, my audition had gone much better than I thought it would

"I think I'm in!" I yelled when I walked in the door and pitched my stuff onto the couch. "Daddy?" I called when I didn't get an answer. A feeling was nudging against me but I ignored it. I yelled again still got no answer. I checked the driveway, both cars were there. I wandered around the house for a minute before padding into the kitchen in my stocking feet and stood transfixed by my father's black hair spilled out over the stained blue tiles.

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I heard someone say my name. I looked up in shock and realized that they weren't talking to me.

"Pretty name," one of the men said.

I didn't hear the other man's response, there was a roaring in my ears that I couldn't shake. So I sipped the water I didn't realize I was holding.

"A shame," the louder man said, "A damn shame. Who did this?"

"Inconclusive," said the quiet man and continued but the roaring sound in my ears drowned him out.

"Does she have any family?" He asked.

"No," the quiet man said.

"I have an uncle," I corrected without really knowing what they were talking about, "he lives overseas, sends me letters."

The two men stared at me, shocked that I was butting into their conversation. The louder man smiled ever so slightly. The quiet man just looked away.

----

My best friend held my hands in hers. Her eyes were blood shot like she had been crying. "I can't believe you're leaving." She said as if I didn't already know. "You got a part in the play."

"Did I?" I asked. For some reason this made my happy. A great deal happier than I wanted to admit to myself. It seemed wrong for something so simple to make me as happy as it did.

"Will you write me?"

"Everyday," I promised, "When I can."

"You can always come back and visit," she said, "you always have a place on my couch." We both laughed. And hugged. And she watched me as I walked away.


	3. White Poster Board Rewritten

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Pt 3

Author's/Rewrite Notes: Unlike the earlier chapters, I didn't really change anything. I always stressed about the word "authorative" since it doesn't seem to be a word. But I can't seem to find the adjective form of authority so I did the best I could. If anyone does know I would really appreciate knowing.

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I came off the plane and looked around. I didn't know what I was looking for. In the movies when someone comes off a plane there's always someone there with a piece of white poster board with your name written across it. But, as I was realizing more and more, life is not anything like it is in the movies. There was no one with my name on a poster board and, as the people waiting paired off and walked away, it seemed there was no one there for me at all. I didn't know what to do so I just stood there in the middle of the terminal looking over the unfamiliar faces of the increasing number of people who were staring at me. That was until I hit a pair of eyes that I couldn't tear away from. I hadn't been looking at people's eyes but this man's and mine just met as if they were supposed to. I didn't recognize the man with his long red hair and clearly not Japanese look. I just stared at him. And he stared at me. People passed between us but neither of us looked away.

Slowly, deliberately, the man raised his hand and waved me over. For a moment I just stood there. Then I went to him and stood over his seated form without speaking. He didn't say anything either, just looked me up and down with a gaze that felt like he was looking straight through my clothes and my skin and was looking at the real me. And I took it, even when he smiled an approving smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Callidan," he said in an accent I didn't recognize, "You're Callidan?" I didn't answer, I didn't need to. I, instead, considered his voice, trying to trace his accent with its harsh yet gentle tone. "Do you speak Japanese?" He asked me in the language I was supposed to know.

"My father has been teaching me," I told him. "Was," I corrected myself, "He was teaching me."

"Good," and he stood up. He was taller than me. "Let's get your bags." He began to walk away but I didn't move. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at me but didn't turn around.

"Who are you?" I asked, "Where's my uncle?"

"He had a last minute commitment," he smiled like I didn't get the joke, "He sent me to get you."

"Did he?"

"Stay if it suits you," he teased, "no one else is going to come for you."

I thought about it and went with him.

Outside a limo was waiting for us. I'd only seen one once or twice before and on any other day it would have shocked me. But it didn't. For some reason this seemed perfectly normal. Why wouldn't a big black limo pick us up?

The foreigner loaded my bags into the back. He wasn't gentle, but I didn't correct him. I only slid into the car after he had.

I was the one that broke the silence, "You know my uncle."

"Yes."

"What is he like?"

The foreigner didn't look at me. He stared forward for a moment with a look that said he was looking for the right word. "Authorative," he said finally.

"Authorative," I repeated, "That certainly is a stupid way to describe an entire man. And I'm not sure that's even a proper word." The red haired man seemed displeased, though his face never changed, so I let the car fall into an uneasy silence. "My mother was afraid of him," I said without thinking, "She always said he was evil. I heard her tell my father once that I was too much like him, and if she could beat it out of me, she would."

He was amused, "I wouldn't tell your uncle that."

"Why not?"

"He cares a lot about you."

"How do you know? Does he speak of me often?"

"I just know."

I wanted to ask him to elaborate but he wouldn't have. So I, again, said nothing and left us in a more easy silence. The foreigner stared forward for the rest of the trip. I glanced out the window from time to time but didn't see anything.

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	4. Everyone but Him Rewritten

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Pt 4

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We stopped in front of a huge apartment building. Even from the outside I could tell that I had never been anywhere so luxurious. It was proper, though. Of course my uncle would live somewhere out of a dream.

"This will be your room," the foreigner told me and pushed open a red wood door at the end of the long hallway. The room he presented me with was larger than the one I'd had before with heavy dark curtains covering the tall windows. He switched on a lamp next to the door. The light made little difference, the room was still dark even with it on.

"Your uncle is on your right," he explained, "Nagi, he's about your age, is across the hall way. I'm next to him." He walked over and pulled open the curtains so the room was flooded with light. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

"I never said it was bad."

"You think it's bad," he said.

"No," I told him, I do not think it is bad." He was silent.

"Why don't you ever call your uncle by name?"

"I do not know his name," I said quickly. It sounded silly saying it. I was pretty sure I had heard his name in the last week but it was all such a blur I couldn't pick out singular details such as names or faces.

"Crawford," a new voice said. I turned quickly to see the Japanese boy standing in the doorway. He was small by all definitions with brown hair and bright blue eyes and his thin arms crossed across his equally small chest. He didn't look me over as the foreigner had, just looked straight into my eyes with a look a malice that made me shiver despite not being cold.

"Callidan," the red haired man said. Neither the boy nor I looked at him. "This is Nagi," he continued. The boy turned to him and glared at the unsaid words. Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

"He is very nasty," I said without thinking. I wasn't sure if I said it in English or Japanese but it didn't seem to matter as the red haired man said nothing. And didn't intend to. I regretted saying it. "Crawford," I said instead, "You simply call him Crawford."

"Yes."

"What is his first name?"

"You'll have to ask him that," the foreigner and I looked at each other. He knew but wasn't going to tell me. Usually I would have demanded to know the answer but it just didn't feel right.

"Then I shall just call him Crawford as well," I said instead.

There was a clunk in the doorway. The was another man standing there. He too was a foreigner, unlike Nagi who was clearly Japanese. He had short cropped white hair and an eye-patch and every available area of his skin was littered with scars.

"Where's Crawford?" the red haired man snapped.

"He was tired," the silver haired one crooned and bared his teeth. Then he left.

I said nothing but the red haired man seemed to know what I was biting back, "It's not as bad as it seems."

"I still don't think it's bad," I corrected.

"Good," He said. I think he said something else as well but I was already spiraling into my own thoughts. Out of the three men I had met all three of them had sent unexplainable shivers up my spine. What if my uncle was the same? What if my mother had been right and he was as terribly cold as she had always said. And what if I had just made a terrible mistake.

"What is it, Callidan?" the red haired man asked. I think I jumped at being pulled out of my thoughts.

"Call me Calli," I said. He smiled again, this time reaching his eyes. It dawned on me that, despite how kind he had been to me, I was still afraid of him. "What is he like?" I asked, "Other than authorative?"

"He's…" He thought harder about the answer this time, "He can be very cold sometimes. But also very unpredicatable."

"You are afraid of him," I said without thinking.

"Sometimes," he admitted, "I'm sure you'll like him very much." I let the silence last this time. We turned away from each other, both unpacking things and placing them in random places in the area of the room we were in, whether or not it was where they went.

"Get some sleep, Calli," he said suddenly. I heard him go to the door, then he paused, "Call me Shuldich." I nodded but he had already left.

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	5. In the Dark of the Night Rewritten

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Pt 5

Author's/Rewrite Notes: Another chapter that became completely different while still not at all. Originally I felt this whole exchange a little bit too fangirly for what I was trying to say. I never intended for this chapter to be racy or innuendo laden. It's supposed to be about an odd yet completely normal experience of two people giving each other exactly what they need. Sometimes even the most sexual experience aren't sexual at all.

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I did as Shuldich told me to. I considered just falling into bed without undressing but I didn't. I changed quickly, throwing the clothes I'd traveled in into the corner where I wouldn't have to look at them. I didn't think I was tired, just a little bit exhausted, but I fell asleep immediately despite the open curtains and the sun streaming in. And I awoke long after the curtains became useless and the moon was streaming in with it's bleaching blue light. I didn't know right away why I'd woken up. I was still groggy but though the haze I saw a silhouette in my door way. The name of the red haired man came out before I had even considered saying anything. But I knew I was wrong. Needlessly, the silhouette shook its head. I apologized in English without thinking.

The figure didn't seem to notice. It stepped forward, assumingly to get a better look at me, and I could see him better. He was a tall man with short hair whose color was bleached blue by the moonlight. He regarded me slowly from behind his glasses. Something about my look made me warm, and I shivered from the change in temperature. I suddenly felt very self conscious with my long hair sticking up in every direction and very small in the huge bed. Especially compared to him. While I simply wore a tank top and boxers he was dressed in a pair of long silk pants and he was clearly more muscular than I was even at my best.

"Uncle?" I whispered as he walked over to my bed and leaned over me. I didn't need to ask but I wanted to say something. He, however, felt no need and said nothing at all. "Calli," I said after the long silence. He nodded. I shut up, it seemed to be annoying him. He reached over and brushed some of my hair out of my face and in the same motion swept back the covers and slipped into bed with me. He pulled me close to him and I didn't object. It felt good to have someone put their arms around me. It had been a while since someone had held me because they wanted to, not because they thought I needed it. I cuddled closer to him until I could feel him all along my length as well as his hands on my back.

And as I descended back into sleep I could have sworn I heard him call me beautiful in my own language.

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Thank you for reading. Comments and criticisms are always appreciated.


	6. Realization Rewritten

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Pt 6

Author's/Rewrite Notes: No, I don't speak German. I can say a few odd phrases but I don't know any of the rules of the language. I used Babel Fish for my translations so if they're terribly off let me know, I'd like my foreign phrases to be as accurate as possible.

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It was bright outside when I finally woke up. And I was alone. I couldn't think of the last time I had been alone. And at first I didn't know where I was. As everything filtered back into my mind I cried for the first time.

I don't know how long I had been crying when a pair of arms wrapped around me and chapped lips brushed across my neck. "Don't cry, lieb," a voice purred.

"They're dead," I said in English through my tears. He kept running his lips over my neck as if trying to kiss away my pain. "They're not coming back," I continued, "They're never coming back."

"Es ist gut," he said. And then became very quiet. After a minute he spoke again, "are you hungry, lieb?" I nodded and turned to face Shuldich. "Come then, breakfast is served." He wrapped a silk robe around me as I dried my tears on the blanket. "What would you like?"

"I do not care," I told him.

"I'll make you some eggs," he said, "Crawford likes them." And he helped me out of the bed and led me down the hallway and through the living room to the dining room. Nagi was standing there. He was holding a mug which he looked at and then handed to me. As I sat down the two of them left into what I assumed was the kitchen.

At first I thought I was alone and nervously sipped Nagi's too hot and too biter green tea. But as I added too much sugar to my tea I noticed I wasn't.

"Good morning," I said in English.

"Good morning," he said back and lowered the paper he had been hiding behind. I would see him better now. His hair was as black as mine with bangs that drooped into his face. It took me a moment to notice the subtle similarities that had given my mother so much stress. He seemed shocked, a look that was out of place in his brown eyes. "Callidan," he said.

"Yes," I said, switching back to Japanese. I sipped my tea. He watched me. I tried to ignore the way he was watching me. At night, when he had called me beautiful, he had seemed genuinely content with me but now he seemed suspicious. Looking me up and down over and over again like it was the first time he'd ever seen me and was trying to memorize and deduct everything that was wrong with me.

Nagi set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me. I idly thanked him and glanced over to where my uncle had returned to studying him paper that was lying on the table.

"I'll enroll you in school today," Uncle said without looking up.

"Thank you," I told him and slowly ate. The eggs needed salt but I made no move to add any.

"When you're done eating get dressed," he continued and sipped his coffee.

"Not today," I told him. Everyone stared at me.

"Why not?" He demanded and looked at me again.

"Just not today," I explained, "not today."

"As you wish," my uncle snapped and raised his paper so I couldn't see his face anymore. I looked at my food but wasn't hungry anymore so I stood up and left the room. Shuldich caught me in the hallway.

"He hates me," I whispered.

"He doesn't hate you," Shuldich argued and grinned warmly. "You're a lot like him, that's all." He laughed and I couldn't help but smile.

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	7. His Hope His Love His Lust Rewritten

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Pt 7

Author's/Rewrite Notes: Not much changed in this chapter from the original. Things are mostly just said in a different way. I still have eternal love for the line "As kind as your father, not your mother" because in a way it's a very nasty insult. In a way it doesn't belong but I could never cut it out. It's also quite out of place for Crawford to be calling himself an ass, I chock it up to him trying to connect with Calli on a more childish level.

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"You should be more like your father," my uncle said in English. I was sitting on my bed with my journal in my lap. He stood in the doorway. He had been dressed in a very proper cream suit at breakfast but now he wore only the pants and shirt with several buttons unbuttoned. "You shouldn't be like me."

"You're mad at me?" I asked in English.

"No," he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. "I would be quite an ass if I was mad at you because of who you are." He walked over and sat next to me on the bed. "I just imagined you…" He trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say. "Different," he said finally and ran his hand over my hair, "As beautiful as your mother, not your father and as kind as your father, not your mother." We sat in silence for a minute. I considered him without thinking anything and he returned my look. And then he left without saying a word.

I spent the rest of the day alone. I stayed in bed for days. I read books. Wrote my friends letters I never sent off. Scribbled self-rightous dribble in my journal. But mostly I just lay there and cried. None of it had been real until then. I had convinced myself that it was all a dream but it wasn't. Not anymore. I wasn't as ashamed as I usually would have been when Shuldich came and sat with me. Sometimes we would sit under the covers and read books together while other times he would just hold me while I cried and coo words of support in German. I liked having him near. And in all those days I didn't see my uncle once.

I didn't want to be alone but most of the time I was. Every night everyone would go out without a word to me and return well after midnight. Sometimes Shuldich would stay behind with me. He spent the time coaxing me to eat and bullying me into cups of vile tasting brews that put me to sleep. Other times it was Nagi who would open both our doors and glance over at me every now and then from his computer.

"What do you do in there?" I asked him once as I wandered past his door after a shower. Despite my depression I always took a shower, the only constant in my upturned world

"Researching," he said.

"Researching what?"

"People, he glanced up at me and went back to his computer.

"Are you my cousin?" I asked. His head shot up to look at me. He didn't seem shocked but his eyes were always blank. But this time I could see the emotion he was hiding behind them.

"No," he said finally and looked back at his screen, "no," he repeated.

"Where are your parents?" Nagi lifted his hands and leaned his chin on them. He didn't say anything but let snippets of emotion flicker out of his eyes, daring me to push the issue.

"Would you like some tea?" He asked.

"I will get it myself," I told him. He looked amazed and followed me into the kitchen. As silly as it sounds it was a big thing. For days, perhaps even weeks, I had only left my room to shower and go to the bathroom. Making myself tea was a huge step. And the symbolism was not lost on either of us.

"I'm sorry," Nagi said when I had settled into a seat in the living room, "It must be…" He stopped talking. I was grateful.

"I am not going to take Uncle away," I told him without knowing why. And for once my random thought was in Japanese. Nagi said nothing for over a minute.

"I know," he said and sat down. It was a sign of acceptance and it made me inexplicably happy. I could feel my heart starting to heal. I was living again, even if it was just making tea and building bridges. I lifted my mug to hide my smile and didn't look at him. We sat in silence, neither of us looking at each other, or anything else for that matter.

I looked up when the others came in. Shuldich grinned at me and then wandered down the hallway leading the white haired man I still hadn't met to a door that was always locked and I had never investigated. Nagi, however, leapt up and hurried over to my uncle. He cooed so quietly and quickly in Japanese that I couldn't understand what he was saying as he surveyed a gash on my uncle's cheek. I turned away towards the balcony and the night sky. It made me very jealous to see Nagi treat my uncle that way. I wanted to be the one who was standing up to help but I couldn't even ask what had happened. And someone even younger than me already knew.

I heard them leave.

I quietly followed.

The two went down the hallway and enter my uncle's room. I could see Nagi carefully removing my uncle's jacket and unbuttoning his shirt to expose the gash that had cut through his suit and shirt.

"Brad," Nagi said and buried his face into my uncle's chest. "Don't make me worry like this anymore," he begged, "please be more careful. Or at least bring me along so I can help." Uncle smiled and tilted Nagi's face up so he could kiss him. And the boy stood up taller to kiss him back.

I stiffened as I felt an arm snake around my waist. "Lieb," a voice purred in my ear. My uncle's door clicked shut, though no one had touched it. "Why don't we follow their example and retire to bed for the night." I pulled away from his suggestive grip at the equally suggestive words.

"I am not interested," I lied. He seemed to tell and in the depths of my mind I could almost hear him laughing at me.

"And I'm kidding," He said. And everything about him changed. I would have teased him right back had I not still been so afraid of him. The horribly vulgar grin plastered across his face coupled with the remnants of his suggestion almost made me wonder why I had such fear. Almost.

I tried to escape him. I returned to the living room where my tea had gotten cold enough to gulp but he followed me there and then into the kitchen where he watched me intently as I washed the mug by hand. I spent extra long washing it, hoping he would get bored of me and leave, and when he didn't I began washing all the other dishes in the sink. Still he stayed. Several timed I felt a tickling at the back of my mind but I had grown so accustomed to the feeling that it was nothing to push it away. And several times I saw Shuldich scowl when I did. So I stopped. He watched me so closely with his blue eyes that I became very self conscious about everything I was doing. I noticed, however, how beautiful he really was.

I couldn't understand why he watched me like that. I'm not much too look at. Mother was right when she said I looked like my uncle, whom she barely knew. My nose was bigger than his and my eyes green to his brown. His hair was significantly shorter than mine that tumbled lazily over my back and I had no glasses. I fancy myself athletic but certainly not the shapely girls he was probably so used to. I couldn't imagine why he wanted to torture me so.

When I was out of things to occupy myself I ran away from him again. This time back to my room where I shut the door and curled up under the covers.

----


	8. Onesan Sister

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt8  
  
* * *  
  
"Wake up," Someone was telling me in Japanese and shaking me. "Wake up," they repeated. I opened my eyes slightly to see Nagi laying over me shaking my shoulders.  
  
"I am up," I said sleepily. He nodded and left my room. It was a stupid thing to do, leaving a half asleep teenager in bed. But I got up anyway; the stupid kid was trusting me.  
  
Nagi had laid out my school uniform on my bed; I changed quickly, shaking out my hair which was still wet from my bedtime shower.  
  
Uncle was at the dining room table while I ate my breakfast; He looked me over with those liquid steel eyes [1] and complimented me in English. Nagi ignored us both and puttered around the kitchen doing whatever it was he felt he needed to do.  
  
The two of us left before Shuldich woke. I mourned slightly; in the time I had lived with my Uncle I'd grown quite accustomed to his silliness. It was raining heavily, Nagi unfurled an umbrella that was a bit too small for us, luckily I was not ashamed of cuddling close to my younger and running to the train station.  
  
"Sit here," He told me, I balked slightly, wanting to sit closer to the other people whose uniforms matched ours. "Sister," he said sternly in English. I sat, then realized what he's said, I repeated it. "Did I say something wrong?" He asked, changing back to Japanese.  
  
"You know English?" I asked. He shook his head,  
  
"Crawford taught me 'Sister'."  
  
"Do you know what it means?"  
  
"Onesan, [2]" He whispered, then said nothing. One girl came over to me and talked overly fast for me to understand. I stammered stupidly at her in my stunted Japanese, she rolled her eyes and stalked off.  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: [1] - Speaking of incestuous, this line was originally "liquid lust eyes". Glad I changed it? Neither am I.  
  
[2] - As obvious as I thought it was, I got questions about this so I'll put it simply. If you know no Japanese this word means "Big Sister". One person thought it was a joke that it was supposed to be funny. What? Was he going to call her 'sister' thinking he was calling her "Whoregirl"? 


	9. I Will Remember

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt9  
  
* * *  
  
"How was your day, Callidan?" Uncle asked when I came in the door. I nodded, sick of Japanese and too mentally exhausted for English. I wasn't used to thinking so much in one day. When I moved here Uncle spoke to me in English, Nagi rarely spoke, and Shuldich. When he spoke, his words echoed in my mind in the non-language of thoughts, I instantly knew when he was saying without having to think about it [1]. Uncle looked me over carefully from the couch. I went to him; he cautiously put his arms around me. Neither of us said anything. "It'll get better," he told me in English.  
  
"Everything's fine," I responded in English. He nodded, but he didn't believe me. Nagi came into the room and ignored us, except to bring me a cup of green tea (exactly the way I liked it) and a goblet of wine for my Uncle. Uncle whispered a thank you to the boy, I said nothing.  
  
"Why did mother hate you?" I asked suddenly in English.  
  
"She didn't like my style," He told me; "She didn't like how outrageous [2] I am."  
  
"You sound almost sad,"  
  
"Your mother was very beautiful," He smiled to himself, "Your father was very lucky."  
  
"No," I said without thinking, "He was not lucky, he was chained."  
  
"Most grudges are resolved after death," I mewed slightly and cuddled closer to him, not wanting him to continue and see less in me. He murmured my name, and called me beautiful.  
  
I fell asleep in his arms. I didn't sleep long and I dreamt very little but when I did I saw Shuldich as if he was in my head watching my dream. I ignored him, let him watch. I felt almost as if I was watching as well, like it wasn't my dream. I felt out of place and tried to sink into the shadows but I seemed to make me stand out even more so I went to stand next to Shuldich. As soon as I settled the dream started. I dreamt of my parents. They were younger and my mother's hair was longer. Uncle was there too, he stood close to my mother and his hand twitched as if he wanted to touch her. She turned to him and bared her teeth, something I'd never seen my mother do before.  
  
"Brad," She said, "Stay away from her, Brad. We want her to never know you exist," My father bit his lip. He didn't agree, I could tell.  
  
"As you wish," Uncle said softly and walked away. I wanted to fallow him, comfort him like I could never do outside dreams, but I was frozen in place to finish the dream.  
  
"He is my brother," My father told my mother, "I refuse to accept this," Never had I heard my father argue with my mother. I was taken aback. "You can't pretend Brad doesn't exist." The two disappeared, I could move again and Shuldich and I were alone.  
  
"Remember," Shuldich told me sternly, "remember what you've seen here." I woke with a start, Uncle was watching me.  
  
"You look like your mother when you sleep," He told me.  
  
"You've watched her sleep?" I asked. He promptly shook his head. I nodded slightly, I almost believed him, until I remembered how his hand had twitched in my dream, longing to touch my mother. But it was nothing but a dream. I will remember it. "I have homework," He nodded.  
  
"Have a good sleep?" Shuldich purred as I passed his room. I turned to look at him. He leaned on the door jam like he did it purely for looks, like he knew it made his naked chest look all the more appealing [3]. I gulped slightly.  
  
"I had a wonderful sleep," I said, trying to sound snobbish,  
  
"All cuddled up in your Uncle's arms dreaming about how sexy his muscles feel holding you," He trailed his eyes over me as he spoke. Both his words and his eyes sent shivers up my spine. Shuldich smiled evilly.  
  
"He's my Uncle, Shuldich," I snapped, trying to sound sure of myself, "That is disgusting."  
  
"Of course, Lieb," He smiled and looked me over again, "That little school outfit makes you look like a walking wet dream," Shuldich purred from the back of his throat and ran his hand through the air as if caressing me without touching me. It did nothing for me. But still I ran from him. I felt silly, always fleeing from Shuldich, but his vulgarity and my irrational fear of him combined with startling results. The only way I could find to escape it was to escape him.  
  
"Remember," He called as I ran away. I ignored him and kept running.  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: [1] - Isn't that sweet? To save her the trouble of having to translate, Shuldich uses his telepathy to help her. I thought it was sweet.  
  
[2] - Outrageous. Of course dear.  
  
[3] - *drools* ok, I'm better now. (Sigh, my author's notes are becoming attack of the fan girl.) 


	10. My Grave His Wish

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt10  
  
* * *  
  
I never asked where the men went at night. It sounds silly now that accepted the locked door and nightly outings so passively. It became normal for me to do my homework after dinner so I could spend as much time as possible with my roommates before they went out at night. My only objection was when Nagi was tired on the way to our school. When out of earshot of Uncle and Shuldich Nagi always called me "Sister" and I always called him "Brother", in English so no one knew what we said. When Nagi was too exhausted in the mornings to do anything but sit I wanted to demand of my Uncle that he allow my little brother more rest. But I never did.  
  
School became an automatic thing for me. I began waking without Nagi's help and sometimes I even woke him. I ate scrambled eggs that always needed salt and left. Nagi and I would hurry to the train station where people would ignore us. I was lucky that teachers always gave me extra time to translate in my head while others simply left me alone.  
  
I wondered sometimes why I didn't get lonely. One would think being alone so often and being avoided for most of the rest of the time would make me cryingly lonely but instead I began to thrive on silence. Uncle seemed to notice the change the most, he had never seen me before my parents died when I was a loud leader who loved to laugh, but he seemed to notice I had turned into a walking husk of the girl I once was. He avoided the empty eyes I know I had. Shuldich also noticed the change and he too avoided me. Only Nagi didn't shy away from me. When I began to spiral into myself like before, he always showed up, asking me for help on things I knew he could do better without me.  
  
* * *  
  
"Why don't you make friends?!" Uncle yelled at me one evening when I sat at my desk doing my homework. I looked at him dumbly, wishing he would repeat it in English, I was tired. But he didn't so my mind was forced to scramble to translate it.  
  
"I see no one I wish to befriend," I told him, in Japanese.  
  
"You are nothing but a walking corpse," He roared and clenched his fists, "Leave. Go back to wherever your soul is, or I will find a grave for you to lay down in." He stomped off before I could answer. I knew he was threatening me, but I didn't care. It didn't even phase me.  
  
"I have already laid in a grave," I told the empty doorway, "You need not find one for me."  
  
* * *  
  
My Uncle and the others did not go out that night. Nagi came in and sat on my bed, helping with my computer work, I don't understand computers. My Uncle came to the doorway and watched us. After a minute Nagi stood up and left. He didn't say anything, just left. My Uncle came into my room and sat on the bed next to me.  
  
"I'm sorry," He said in English. "Please stay, I want you here. I just want you to be yourself, to be happy."  
  
"I'm [1] happy," I told him, "Being here makes me happy."  
  
"Good," He said and lay back on my bed, "if there's ever anything I can do, tell me."  
  
"Just be here," I told him and for the first time in a long time I smiled a genuine smile. A smile of the me that I'd left behind. Deep inside something shifted and I was happy. For a minute as I sat on my bed with my Uncle laying his head on my leg I was happy. [2]  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: [1] - You can usually tell if Calli is speaking English of Japanese (if I'm too lazy to tell you) by whether she uses conjunctions or not. She calls her Japanese stunted and her father had only been teaching her for a little bit so she speaks very properly (I AM, DO NOT, ect.)  
  
[2] - O.o Crawford is laying on her, who wouldn't be happy? Ok. I'll stop with the fan girl stuff. 


	11. A Letter in English

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt11  
  
* * *  
  
Words never meant much to me. When living in America all I wanted was to speak Japanese and now it's the exact opposite. I always have tons to say but I never say it since it's in the wrong language.  
  
My Japanese has never been very good so I wasn't just quiet, I was silent. I became so starved for conversation that I would that I would pick fights with my Uncle since he would yell at my in English so the others wouldn't understand him. We fought about the silliest things. He said he wanted everything for me. He demanded to know why I wasn't making friends, why I never went shopping, why I no longer played sports. Eventually our arguments got so horrible I would walk away. I never told him I hated him and he never again told me to leave. It never got so bad I cried. Nagi acted like he thought I should be. He only heard that we were fighting, not what we were fighting about, Nagi assumed I was upset when instead I was happy my Uncle cared.  
  
My Uncle came to me when we fought. Sometimes very late at night, sometimes before he left for the night. Often he was dressed in the black silk pants he wore all the time and was covered in sweat. I never questioned why, though I was pretty sure I knew. [1]  
  
"Write your old friends," my Uncle told me, "tell them how lucky you are, how you live here, they will agree with me that you are fortunate."  
  
I wasn't sure he was right. I stalled, not wanting to be reminded of the people I'd left behind. But in the end I agreed, I cared a great deal for my Uncle.  
  
'Katie' I wrote to my best friend, 'It's Calli, obviously. I know it's been a while but I'm sorry. It's wonderful. I don't just live with my Uncle, but him and 3 other guys. First there's Shuldich, I think he's German. He flirts with me a lot and sometimes he knows what I'm thinking. He jokes around a lot, you'd like him. Then there's Nagi, he's only 15. We walk to school every morning and he calls me "Sister", in English, it's the only bit he knows. Right now he's across the hall in his room giving my weird looks asking why I'm not typing up this note. Then of course there's my Uncle. His name his Brad Crawford. He is a lot like me. His personality is me, only more serious and he looks like me, too. With short hair. He's also a bit more authorative than me and almost always wears a white suit. I know I said there are 5 of us but I don't even know the last's name. He's really creepy, covered in scars and shows his teeth when he talks. Luckily he doesn't talk much and stays in his room all the time.  
  
'School here is very different. We have to wear this really weird uniform. I never need to go clothes shopping. Most of my teachers ignore me do I don't talk much. My history teacher is really funny; she's trying to teach about the Great Depression and keeps mispronouncing names. [2]  
  
'Uncle is on me to write all of you but I'm not ready to write everyone yet. He also says I need to get out more and make friends. I miss America too much. I'm not ready yet.  
  
'I have a PO box type thingy so you can write me back. Please do.'  
  
I sat and read the letter many times, it seemed so short. Months of my life summed up in a page. It sounded so inhuman, I wasn't talking about the people I spent almost all my time with but people I'd never met. I wanted to ripe the letter up but I couldn't do better.  
  
Uncle wanted to read it but I sealed it and told him if he touched it I would never write or speak another American word. He let me send it unobstructed.  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: [1] - This line can be taken two ways: Calli is remembering that Nagi and Crawford are together and is being a pervert or that she has another guess that she doesn't want to tell us.  
  
[2] I wrote this part while listening to my English teacher mispronounce "Hiroshima" for almost a half hour, I was releasing my aggressions by taking a pop shot at her in this story. 


	12. How Dare She What Does She Know

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt12  
  
* * *  
  
"Sister?" Nagi purred. I looked up at him; he was standing in my doorway dressed in black leather and what appeared to be black linen. He was dressed for his night outing. I nodded that he could enter. He walked slowly to where I was siting on my bed and pillowed his head into my neck. I said nothing. He said nothing.  
  
Elegantly he rotated his face so I could look into his beautiful eyes. He looked over my face as if he's never seen it before. Gently, Nagi traced his fingers over my face. I could feel the soft calluses of his fingers on my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, but I also I could feel ghostly hands on my back, my hair, my legs. He paused on my lips and watched carefully as I breathed out of my mouth.  
  
"I've never kissed a girl," he whispered and left my room. The encounter didn't seem awkward to me, just curious. [1]  
  
He had left a letter in my lap, from Katie.  
  
'Calli,' it read, 'We've been waiting for you to write. It's almost summer, we need to make plans. Do you want to come out here or, even better, I can come visit you. [2]' The letter continued for many pages, filling my mind with gossip about people I barely remembered and many, many reasons why I should let her come and visit me. I wanted to see her, I didn't need encouragement. Uncle needed even less.  
  
* * *  
  
Nagi and I were sitting at the airport staring at a wall. He had a book open in his lap but wasn't reading it; it seemed my nervousness was contagious. I was very uncomfortable, wearing a new cream suit like all my roommates had, Nagi was more used to the damned things than I. Uncle wanted Katie to see all of us as powerful, he seemed to want her to be intimidated so he ordered everyone to dress in their nice suits and sent a limo for Nagi and I to pick Katie up with.  
  
When the plane finally came she ran up to me and started yelling. At first I was unaware she was speaking English. It surprised me how little her being there made me happy. She was practically crying and I was barely fazed. Nagi reached out and touched my shoulder. I understood.  
  
"Let us go," I said in Japanese. Katie looked at me, confused, until I realized my mistake and repeated it in English. Her eye's widened and she looked unnerved, but she fallowed me.  
  
"You look so nice," Katie told me as we waited for her bags.  
  
"Crawford likes us to look professional," I told her, it felt odd calling Uncle by his name but it sounded better.  
  
"Who's Crawford?" She asked, obviously she had not really read my letter. Nagi touched my arm; I repeated everything in Japanese for him.  
  
"My Uncle," I told her in English then repeated it in Japanese.  
  
"Why do you call him Crawford, then?" She asked. I repeated it for Nagi.  
  
"It sounds better," I explained (for both Katie and Nagi).  
  
"Those," Katie said, Nagi and I both pulled out a bag.  
  
"Where are we going?" Katie asked as the two of us set them down and started towards the exit. "My bags!"  
  
"The chauffer will get them."  
  
"Oh." Katie sounded awed, "Your Uncle is rich?"  
  
"He's in politics," Nagi said quickly almost interrupting my translation. I told her so; fully aware it was a practiced lie.  
  
"Humph," She crossed her arms, "Sounds boring, probably ugly too."  
  
"He's not ugly," I yelled, "He's not boring, either. He-he chose my name," I don't know how I knew that, I just did. It popped out of my mouth in a moment of possessive rage and I knew instantly it was true.  
  
Neither of us said anything. Nagi kept asking silently for an explanation of what had just happened.  
  
"Do not worry and it," I told him. Katie scowled, convinced I had said something about her.  
  
* * *  
  
"You're late," Uncle told me in Japanese, when I walked into the apartment.  
  
"So was the plane," I snapped, still upset from Katie.  
  
"Who's that?" Katie asked, pointing to me Uncle. "Is that.?" She cut herself short.  
  
"Uncle Crawford," I said, "This is my friend, Katie." She curtsied; he looked her up and down over his newspaper. Katie fidgeted  
  
"Hello," he said finally. I almost saw a visible sigh of relief from Katie. I knew from experience how intimidating my Uncle could be.  
  
"And Shuldich," I told her.  
  
"Nice to meet you," He said in Japanese.  
  
"Nice to meet you too," Katie responded, then looked confused.  
  
"Come," I told her, "Your bags are already here."  
  
"You never told me your Uncle was so gorgeous!" Katie squealed when we'd reached the safety of my room.  
  
"I've never noticed," I lied.  
  
"And that red head," she fanned herself and fell onto my bed, "odd isn't it, I could practically understand him."  
  
"Everyone can understand Shuldich like that; he's a bit of a psychic."  
  
"Fascinating," she mumbled.  
  
"I guess," I said and opened my spare dresser, it was always mostly empty, "You can put your stuff in here."  
  
"Are you ok?" Katie asked suddenly.  
  
"Of course. Why do you ask?"  
  
"You've never been this quiet before," She rolled over so she was on her stomach and watched me as I put her clothes in the dresser, "Are you happy here? Mom would be perfectly happy to let you live with us."  
  
The remark caught me off guard. I'd never thought of it. Of course it was possible that I could go live with one of my friends. It shouldn't be as big a shock as it seemed to be, I couldn't even make my hands move.  
  
"Onesan," A voice came, I turned to the door. And Nagi. "Are you ok, Onesan?"  
  
"Yes," I told him in Japanese and nodded, for nodded for Katie, "I'm fine," At least I could move my hands now, I continued putting clothes.  
  
But Nagi didn't seem satisfied, "I might not be able to read minds like Shuldich, but I know something's bothering you." I ignored him. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, "What's wrong, Calli?"  
  
"Nothing," I told him as emotionlessly as I could, "Please, I haven't spoken with my friend in a long time." He stood there holding my wrist for a few seconds then left. I felt horrible. I didn't want Nagi to think he wasn't important to me, he really was. Perhaps that's why Katie had taken me so by surprise, how could she expect me to leave my family.  
  
"Cute kid," Katie said and watched him leave, "Is he a good kisser?"  
  
"What do you mean?" I asked, totally baffled.  
  
"Calli, darling, hate to break it to you, but you're interested in the kid, and he's interested in you." She laughed and rolled over a few times on my bed.  
  
"I'm not interested in Nagi-chan," I told her sternly, "He's like a little brother to me."  
  
"Don't kid yourself; he likes you, go for it."  
  
"Katie," I told snapped, "He's gay." She stared at me in shock for second, I just glared at her. After a second she ducked her head.  
  
"I wish I hadn't come," She said finally, "You've changed, Calli. I don't know what to call it except changed."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You've gotten cold, you have lost all the emotion that made you Calli, I-I don't know who you are anymore." I paused, trying not to take in what she's said.  
  
"You can leave then," I told her and left her alone in my room.  
  
"Uncle," I asked when I'd reached the living room, "Do we have plans for today?" I said without thinking.  
  
"I found an American restaurant to take your friend to," He said putting the paper down so I could see his eyes, "Why?"  
  
"Just wondering."  
  
"Is something wrong, Callidan?" He asked. I shook my head.  
  
"Katie just said something that got to me," I sat down next to him on the couch, "Have I changed since I came here?"  
  
"I couldn't say," He admitted, "When you came here you were very depressed, I don't know how you were before your parents died."  
  
"So, you think I've changed?" He shook his head.  
  
"I refuse to lie and tell you yes or no," My Uncle reached out to pull me into a hug, the paper forgotten in his lap, "Change is in the eye of the beholder, if you like who you are than who's to say you weren't always like that, deep inside."  
  
"Katie, obviously."  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: [1] - I said I'd stop being a fangirl so insert your own stupid fangirl thing here.  
  
[2] - I love Geology. I have no desire to do any Biology so you know what? I'm not going to. If it's summer in California (I don't remember if I ever said where Calli is from. but she's from California if I didn't) then it probably wouldn't be summer in Japan (I learned this fro Bill Nye the Science Guy) but since I made up Crawford's past, then this fic can be considered AU and the earth rotates differently. 


	13. Caged Lights and White Jackets

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt13  
  
* * *  
  
"Come home with me," Katie said suddenly, in the darkness. I rolled over onto my side to look at her across my large bed, "Please, you have to get away from here."  
  
"But I'm happy here," I told her, "I don't want to leave my family again."  
  
"They aren't your family, Calli!" She sat up, I stayed where I was, "The only one who could possibly be your family is your Uncle and he never did anything for you until your parents died."  
  
"No," I corrected her, "Crawford is my Uncle, Nagi is my little brother, and Shuldich is. Shuldich is the one thing I've never ever had."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"What is wrong with you, Calli?" She demanded, "You're supposed to be my best friend, not someone I don't know."  
  
"If you don't like it, Katie, then leave," I told her.  
  
"Not without you," she said sternly, "I can let you stay here, you mean too much to me, Calli, your dying slowly, the Calli I love can't be dead yet, I need to get you away from these men, that clingy little kid, the freak guy, and that horrid Uncle of yours." I don't know what came over me but hearing her insult the only people who mattered to me made me loose it. I sat up and smacked her as hard as I could. [1]  
  
"How dare you come into here and insult the only people who mean anything to me?!" I yelled, "Where were you when my parents died? You want me to come home with you? You should have thought that before I left!"  
  
I stopped, I don't know why. There were so many things I wanted to yell at her. There were so many things I needed to get off my chest and Katie pushing me over the edge meant I could take it all out on her. But I didn't.  
  
Lucky too, had I been yelling I wouldn't have heard the delicate scratching at my door. Forgetting about Katie, temporarily I went to the door, expecting to open it to Nagi or my Uncle but instead someone I could barely remember meeting was standing there.  
  
His short hair was tousled and his eye lids were low so he could only be looking at part of me. There was a slash on his upper harm where the black leather vest didn't cover but the blood had already started to dry. I could hear Katie scrambling into a protective position but I ignored her.  
  
"May I help you?" I asked him, trying to catch his flicking eye that refused to stay still.  
  
"Miss Callidan," He whispered in an Irish accent that sent shivers up my spine and quickened my breathing [2], "Will you some help me?" I nodded, closing my door behind me as I fallowed him to the normally locked room. It was the only open door, which was slightly unnerving; Shuldich's door seemed to be always open.  
  
Behind the locked door was even more unnerving. The room was painfully bright and the only light was from a caged light in the corner. The man went to the center and picked up a white piece of cloth and brought it to me, I noticed there was a long vertical rip in the side.  
  
"Can you fix it?" He asked, "Everyone is asleep, I heard you yelling."  
  
"Did I wake you?" I asked, he shook his head.  
  
"I was awake, trying to fix this," His eyes drooped slightly, "I couldn't."  
  
"Can you make me some Green Tea?" I asked him, he nodded, "Please make me some, and I will meet you in the living room." He left.  
  
It was very odd. I remembered the bleached blond man from when I'd first arrived, he had bared his teeth at me and later I'd seen Shuldich struggle with him. It was impossible that he was a docile as he appeared, no he didn't seem docile, more drugged. I looked around the room; in the corner farthest from the light was a tiny table. On that table was a knife and a syringe. Bingo. He was drugged. I looked down at the cloth in my hand, holding it out so I could see what it was. A straight jacket. I checked the walls, they were padded. [3]  
  
Rage licked at my mind, how dare the guys put this poor man in a padded room, in a straight jacket, and drug him. It didn't make sense. He seemed nice to me, a bit strange but he seemed genuinely worried about the garment.  
  
I snuck into my Uncle's room [4] to get the sewing kit I knew was hidden there from when I'd ripped my school uniform and hurried to the living room. I'd never sewed before, but the scarred man seemed almost crazed about his jacket, I had to try. It wasn't like I dared to wake anyone else up. Needless to say I sucked at sewing, so I sewed big, sturdy but easy to remove stitches, Uncle could fix it in the morning.  
  
The scarred man came into the living room with my tea. I took it from him and tasted it, it was very hot and I burned my tongue. Not to mention it was overly sweetened. He sat in the arm chair next to the couch and looked down at his hand, it was wet. He looked so helpless I went to the kitchen and cleaned off his hand, it was tea. I was baffled, the tea had been hot enough to burn me but his hand was covered in it and all he seemed to care about was that fact that he was sticky.  
  
"Are you ok?" I asked him.  
  
He looked up at me, through an almost fully open eye; the drug was starting to wear off, "Yes."  
  
"It did not burn you?" I asked.  
  
"No." I shrugged it off, so he hadn't burned himself as I had. My eyes fixed on the slash on his arm.  
  
"Should I take care of that?" I asked and pointed to it.  
  
"It'll be fine."  
  
"If you say so," I decided to test my luck; I reached out and gingerly poked the wound. He watched me but did not flinch. I poked it harder, he still did nothing. "Does that not hurt?"  
  
"No."  
  
"My name is Calli," I told him. He looked at me confused.  
  
"Farfarello," he told me.  
  
"That is a very pretty name," I told him.  
  
"You are very nice," He said slowly, "It is too bad you don't hurt God, you'd be good at it." I was very confused.  
  
"Why would I want to hurt God?" I asked. But he said nothing.  
  
"Is my jacket fixed?" he asked. I nodded. "May I have it?"  
  
"It is not very good, be sure to ask Crawford to fix it better tomorrow," I told him and helped him get into it. It was awkward trying to buckle the thing, they were sturdy buckles. "Should I lock your door?" I asked him when I was done.  
  
"I will," He said and went to his room, his arms strapped behind him.  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: [1] - Hit her! Am I the only one who doesn't like her? She reminds me of Nanami.  
  
[2] - What is it with Calli and accents? She describes German accents as blood boiling and Irish accents make her breath quicken. Whether she knows it or not, Calli seems to have a European fetish.  
  
[3] - Few people in the world seem to agree with my view of Farfarello as a psycho, but it's my story and no matter how difficult it is to write him like this, I will.  
  
[4] - I was thinking of making a vulgar Nagi-joke, but I passed. 


	14. Questions, His and Mine

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt14  
  
* * *  
  
"Who is Farfarello?" I demanded from Shuldich. The sun was just beginning to rise and I was sitting over his bed.  
  
"Farfie?" He asked sleepily, I had woken him. "He's the last member of our team," Shuldich admitted. [1]  
  
"What team?" I asked.  
  
"Our team."  
  
"What does this team do?"  
  
"We protect Takatori."  
  
"Why does he need protecting?"  
  
"People want to kill him."  
  
"So you guys and Uncle are bodyguards."  
  
He shook his head, "Assassins." I didn't know what to say. But in this position of half-sleep he didn't seem to be using his common sense let along his powers, I figured I might as well take advantage of his openness.  
  
"Who killed my parents?" I asked without knowing why. How could Shuldich know?  
  
"How did they die?" He asked.  
  
"My father had his neck cut very deep all the way around, but he died from strangulation. My mother died from multiple lacerations all over her body."  
  
"The Balinese killed your father; the Abyssinian killed your mother. Now may I sleep?" I got off him and went back to my room; Katie was sitting up, as if waiting for me. Her cheek was starting to swell. I felt no remorse; I should have smacked her harder.  
  
"Don't you ever sleep?" She asked.  
  
"Yes, now let me do just that."  
  
"Calli," She asked, I rolled over to face her, "do you want me to leave?"  
  
"I don't know," I admitted, "My family here means a lot to me, if you down want to be around them that it's not me that wants you to leave, it's you." She was very quiet.  
  
"You only like them because they took care of you after your parents died, they caught you on the rebound; you don't like them as much as you think you do."  
  
"How do you know?" I asked her, "You can't see into my head."  
  
"I just know," She said, very convincingly, "How could you possibly like a bossy ass, a gay little kid, and a psychic freak? Not to mention the creepy thing that was here earlier."  
  
"I do, ok? Uncle is not as bossy as he seems, he tries very hard. The fact that Nagi is gay doesn't mean a thing in the great scheme of things. And Shuldich is NOT a freak, it's normal for him; he wouldn't be Shuldich if he couldn't slip into your mind. And Farfarello is very kind, thank you very much."  
  
"You're turning into them, you're loosing yourself, and I refuse to leave you like this," Katie reached out and grabbed my hand, "Deep inside you hate it here, I'll prove it." Deep inside, I hated her. In my heart I was finally home, there was no longer a need for me to be false anymore. Katie was scared for me; she truly wanted me to be the girl she had made friends with. But I wasn't her anymore.  
  
Then suddenly it hit me. I knew what she was trying to do. I don't know how I knew, but I did.  
  
"Jessie finally died, didn't she?" I asked. Jessie was the third person in our group of three friends. It baffled me. She hadn't been sick when I'd left and I was sure Katie hadn't mentioned it in her letter, I would have noticed that.  
  
"Yes," Katie said after a second, clearly as baffled as I was, but didn't question it. I sat up and peaked through the curtains. The sun was on its way up, I climbed out of bed.  
  
"Go to sleep," I told her, "I have things to do."  
  
Uncle was up when I went into the dining room. He sat at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. I sat across from him and locked my eyes on where his eyes would be had the paper not been in the way. He lowered it, catching my eyes and holding me there. Neither of us moved. He wasn't angry, the scowl was purely a response to my challenge, at least this could go civilly; it was up to me. The two of us just sat there, eyes locked, both of us not wanting to be the first to break and speak.  
  
Finally I won, "What is it Callidan?" He demanded.  
  
"You have been keeping things from me," I said in Japanese, in case Katie decided to fallow me into the room.  
  
"You haven't been asking the right questions," He said.  
  
"Then answer me this, what do you do for a living?"  
  
"The others here and I are assassins," he admitted. I hadn't expected him to cave so easily.  
  
"Why does Takatori need assassins protecting him, why does he not hire bodyguards?" This caught my Uncle off guard. He set down both his coffee and his paper so he could give me his full attention.  
  
"We're members of Esset; we do what they tell us to." I could tell this was going no where I really cared about.  
  
"Why is Farfarello kept in a locked, padded room, in a straight jacket and drugged?" I demanded, once again his eyes flickered. I was asking questions he didn't want to answer. I was asking him questions about things he didn't want me knowing about.  
  
"He's insane," he said finally, "And we don't keep him drugged."  
  
"Then why was he drugged last night?"  
  
"He must have done that himself," Uncle lied. Except that I could tell it was the truth.  
  
"How is he insane?"  
  
"He is obsessed with hurting God and he can't feel pain."  
  
"Who killed my parents?" I demanded, for my finale.  
  
"WeiB," he said after a long pause, "Will you answer my questions now?"  
  
"Yes, if you ask the right ones."  
  
"Does your opinion of me change knowing that I kill people?" He asked. I paused to think about it. He wasn't asking easily answerable questions, I had to think about this. I had to make sure I was telling the truth.  
  
"No," I said finally, "I think no less of you, but I am going to be more wary of what I tell you, I do not want you to kill for me." He smiled.  
  
"How do you know about Farfarello?" Ah, an easy one.  
  
"He ripped his jacket last night, I was yelling so he knew I was awake and he asked me to fix it," I said bluntly, "I can not sew, just so you know, you should redo it."  
  
"How did you feel about Farfarello before you spoke to me?" I had to pause again.  
  
"I was scared for him," I admitted, "I was confused and he seemed very nice to me, a bit odd, but that is to be expected. I was very mad at you and Shuldich for putting him in such a situation."  
  
"How do you feel about him now that you've spoken to me?"  
  
"I can not say I pity him, for that would be a lie. I wish someone would give him a chance, he has had a hard life and no one shows him any compassion that is what he needs. He is scared of himself, someone needs to help him." I just kept talking, not really knowing what came out of my mouth until seconds after I said it, Uncle's face didn't change so I assumed he wasn't angry with me. But still he paused and was very quiet.  
  
"How do you know he's scared?" He asked.  
  
"I do not know," I admitted, "I just know it, and I know it is true."  
  
"I believe you," He leaned forward as he spoke, "How long have you been able to know things?" I thought about it. It was a very difficult question, I didn't want to lie but I wasn't sure what the truth was.  
  
"I do not know," I said again, "I didn't start noticing it until after my parents died but I do not know." Uncle picked up his newspaper, all the while keeping his eyes on me. I ignored his eyes and went into the kitchen to make myself breakfast.  
  
"I'm sorry," a voice said. I turned to look at Katie.  
  
"For what?" I asked.  
  
"Trying to make you change back," she told me, "If you like how you are, then I have to accept that." I turned to hide my smile.  
  
"What would you like for breakfast?" I asked her, she looked shocked.  
  
Just then my Uncle came into the kitchen dressed in his normal white suit. He went to the fridge and pulled out a piece of pizza from dinner the night before and began eating it cold. I had to laugh. Katie and my Uncle were confused but it was funny to me, it was so domestic. White suited assassin eating cold pizza in Japan. I kept laughing. They thought I was insane but I didn't care. I laughed until it was no longer funny and my eggs were burnt. But they were well salted burnt eggs. [2] [3]  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: [1] - Sleepy people are so much fun, they never think before they say anything.  
  
[2] - I love this last paragraph. For some reason it really means a lot to me and I wish I could write that well all the time.  
  
[3] - It's very late and I am very tired so I'll make the joke. Actually I won't. I'll just make a referral to "Crawford's Unusual Morning" and burnt eggs and take my leave. 


	15. Cry for Them

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt15  
  
* * *  
  
I didn't know what to think for several days. Every since my conversation with my Uncle about how I felt I couldn't figure out how I did feel. I really wanted to keep from making what I said be a lie. But it was. I did feel different. It hurt to know I had lied, of course it hadn't been a lie at the time but it was now. I felt the need to tell him that I did feel different but I didn't want him to be mad at me. I wasn't repelled by the thought of him killing. My elegant Uncle, childish Nagi, beautiful Shuldich, mysterious Farfarello. it wasn't the idea of them killing people that hurt me, it was the idea of anyone hurting them. I knew it was impossible for assassins to avoid being hurt every time, and that time when one got hurt is what upset me. The idea dragged my down to depression and threatened to reduce me to tears. It's pathetic really, the people I loved were the bad guys and I was crying for them.  
  
WeiB. They killed my parents but did they have someone who cried for them? I kind of wished they did. It would make me feel less pathetic. I knew that they weren't heartless because they were the same as my family, therefore I wished they had someone to cry for them. But more than that I wished they knew who I was. I knew it was a death wish, WeiB killed my parents for a reason and I knew they would kill me too but I wanted them to know me. I wanted them to know who I was. I wanted them to be hiding in the shadows when I walked into the house and see my look of horror when I saw what they'd done. I wanted them to see me when I cried without stopping. I wanted then to know what they'd done to me. And for some reason I wanted to thank them. Had it not been for them I would never have known any of the people I'd grown to love. I wanted to rip their eyes out and kiss their cheeks.  
  
Katie was the one that roused me from my brooding. I was thankful for it. I could feel myself spiraling in on myself again and I didn't want to face the consequences of that again. Neither of us said anything about it, she just came and asked me to show her around. And I did.  
  
To be completely honest I don't think I'd ever really looked around the area. It truly was beautiful. My grandmother on my father's side had been obsessed with Japan and sent me books and books filled with pictures of Japan but it was nothing like walking with Katie through the park. She was fascinated by the beautiful cherry blossoms [1] floating around us, I was just as amazed but I tried to hide it. No need to let her know my weakness. Imported irises were blooming on the sides of the walkway and I kept having to pull her around to keep from stepping on them. I liked them the best, my father loved irises.  
  
"You never said you lived amongst such beauty!" Katie said in awe of a huge cherry tree. Several people looked at us like we were spouting gibberish, to them I guess we were.  
  
"You get used to it after a while," I lied.  
  
"I could never get used to this," Katie smiled at me, "You know what you need?" She asked, her eyes shining.  
  
"What?" I asked, afraid of what she might say. A cherry tree to plant outside my window? For my Uncle to buy me that park? Katie could be very strange at times, and I was hoping this wouldn't be one of those times.  
  
"Some flowers for your room."  
  
"My ceiling isn't that high."  
  
"No," She laughed, "little flowers, like potted freesia [2]."  
  
"That would be nice," I said, to humor her.  
  
"Let's go to a flower shop! What's a good one?" I knew telling her I didn't know wouldn't help me get out of buying flowers. It's not that I don't like flowers but I don't really like them either. Buying a flower might be nice but I would never take care of. Plants don't jump about like morons when you don't give them water, I'd probably forget it was there.  
  
"I don't go to flower shops," I said, "Uncle bought me roses once, I'm pretty sure the place is around her somewhere."  
  
"Ask him," Katie said, not accepting no for an answer, and pointed to a random person. I did and got directions to one nearby.  
  
"You girls will love it," the man said and winked at me. Needlessly I was disturbed. But Katie made me go anyway.  
  
The flower shop was called The Koneko. Kitten, very cute. Sickeningly cute. I didn't tell Katie, she would have been way too happy. She's always liked cute things like that.  
  
"May I help you?" a voice asked. I turned to face a very attractive brunette. He had short hair and something about him made me want to challenge him to anything. Though I'd probably loose, he was very fit.  
  
"Yes," I told him, "My friend wants me to buy a potted freesia." I said, trying to get him to find me a way out of actually buying it. But he didn't.  
  
"Let me find one for you," and he wandered off. Katie asked what had happened, I told her.  
  
"Let's go inside," She said all too happily and dragged me into the flower shop. It was crowded with girls and the noise made my head ache, I wanted to leave. But Katie didn't, she felt better surrounded by people. Not that I could understand why.  
  
"Introduce me to him," Katie commanded me and pointed to a young boy arranging roses in the back, seemingly hiding from the crowd. I sympathized for him, I wasn't anymore comfortable than I was.  
  
"Excuse me," I said to the boy, arguing with Katie is pointless, she gets loud and embarrassing. "This will sound odd, but my friend here speaks no Japanese and wishes me to introduce her." He looked very confused. I was pretty sure I'd said it in his language, Katie looked expectant so I assumed I had. Then why did he look so confused? I remembered suddenly back to when I had found my parents, I physically shook my head to clear away the image. But it remained for a minute then went away just as suddenly.  
  
"Nice to meet you both," He said after the image had cleared out of my head. I told Katie that, she was overly happy, as to be expected with Katie.  
  
"Oh yes, this is Katie. I am Calli," I introduced us both. He smiled at both names.  
  
"I'm Omi," He told me. I told Katie.  
  
"I am very sorry," I told him, "I normally am not this straight forward but she is and I do not argue with her. I hope I have not disturbed you."  
  
"No, of course not," He told me. "Actually I was getting ready to go on a walk through the park, would you join me?"  
  
"Of course!" Katie yelped quite loudly when I translated for her. Luckily no one noticed.  
  
"We would enjoy that," I said instead for him, "Wait. The brunette went to get me a Freesia, I do not wish to leave him like that."  
  
"I'll tell him to leave it in the back for when you return," He said and ran through a door. Katie looked upset until I explained it for her.  
  
"Oh," She said and smiled.  
  
Omi came out. The brunette was behind him holding the Freesia but he simply put it on a shelf near the back of the store and Omi came over to us.  
  
"Let's go," He said happily.  
  
"Yes," I said and smiled, "Let us."  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: [1] - I have no clue if cherry tress blossom in summer but since the earth rotates strangely and I feel like it, they do now.  
  
[2] Once again, I hate Biology so I also have no idea whether freesia can be grown in pots. 


	16. Sickness Hate Love Death And Everything ...

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt16  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: This chapter is. odd. I'm not sure I like it. The next chapter will explain all the discrepancies in this one, so don't flame me for them, please, I'm not an idiot. Writing actually storylines is hard, but if I don't stop being lazy this story will die and that would be a waste of a lot of notebook paper.  
  
* * *  
  
Omi took us back to the park Katie and I had just left but I seemed to be the only one who cared. Katie stood next to the poor boy and rambles almost nonstop in English to him forcing me to drop whole sentences of hers in the effort to keep them both informed. Omi never took his eyes off me, I guessed it was because it was because I was actually speaking in a language he understood but his look was so much more studious and his answers to Katie were very distracted. I couldn't help but remember my parents.  
  
Suddenly I began coughing. I was coughing so bad it hurt and I couldn't seem to stay on my feet. Katie and Omi both stopped and kept asking if I was ok in their own language but I couldn't stop coughing to answer them. Tears leaked out of my eyes from both my coughing fit and the memories I couldn't seem to banish of my parents. Omi moved me to a park bench and Katie patted me on the back but that only made me cough worse.  
  
"Should you go home?" Katie asked. I couldn't answer.  
  
Just as suddenly, I stopped coughing. It was weird, the thoughts of my parents and the coughing stopped at the same second as if connected. I sat there, hunched over with my hand to my mouth waiting for the coughing to start again but it didn't. It was hard to get a breath and I felt light headed but other than that I seemed fine.  
  
"Are you ok?" They both asked. I nodded.  
  
"I believe so," I struggled out in Japanese through habit. Katie didn't ask for me to repeat it.  
  
"Let's take you home," Katie said, "Do you want Omi to come with us?" For whatever reason I had a strong urge to keep Omi away from my home. It was a threatening feeling and I couldn't figure out why.  
  
"No thank you," I told her and stood up.  
  
"It has been very nice meeting you, Omi, but I should go home and lie down," I told him, bowed and walked quickly away from him. For some reason I didn't understand I wanted distance between us, I needed to get away from him.  
  
"Are you ok?" Katie asked.  
  
"I just need to lie down," I told her.  
  
Uncle freaked out when Katie told him. He fussed over me and even had Shuldich go and buy me my favorite ice cream. He made me lay down, and put a cold rag on my forehead, I guess he felt a fever. I felt sick and weak, but at the same time I wanted to take a long walk by myself. In the end, sickness and my Uncle won out and I stayed in bed trying to figure out what was wrong.  
  
My Uncle's answer to everything seems to be to treat the symptoms. If I had a fever he cooled me down. If I coughed he got me something to coat my throat. He set up a metal thing near my bed that spit smoke out of the holes in the top. The deep gray smoke smelled horrible but it made me sleepy and took my cough away.  
  
* * *  
  
I woke up around midnight to nothing in particular. The door and curtains were closed so there was no light and I was all alone. I knew I should stay in bed but for some reason I didn't want to. I wanted some of the lemon tea Uncle had brought me that had taken all the pain in my throat away but the only stuff left in my room was cold and I had no desire to drink it cold.  
  
Somehow I made it to the door. I only smacked my foot once, on Katie's suitcase. Mostly due to habit I bit my lip and tiptoed down the hallway. I didn't want to wake anyone, it was very late.  
  
"What do you mean?" I heard my Uncle say in English.  
  
"Exactly what I said," Responded a voice I couldn't place at first. I paused before entering the living room.  
  
"That's humorous," Uncle replied and chuckled. I heard Katie laugh as well, more of a pealing laughter than the delicate one of my Uncle.  
  
"Why?" She asked him.  
  
"I just want to know."  
  
"You really care about her, don't you?" Katie asked. I peaked into the living room, both had their backs turned, which was nice, listening to voices without actions to go with them has always been difficult for me.  
  
"Yes," Uncle said and looked down, "She means everything to me."  
  
"Than why." Katie asked, "Why did you ignore her until her parents died?" They were talking about me? Of course, I already knew that in my own mysterious way.  
  
"Callidan's mother hated me," Uncle explained, "She really thought I was the devil incarnate."  
  
"Strange," Katie paused, probably for effect, "Her mother never seemed unreasonable to me, a bit odd at times but all parents are."  
  
"She wasn't unreasonable. She just didn't like anything about me."  
  
"I don't see why," Katie said and slid closer to him, to rest her head on his shoulder. Uncle stiffened. She didn't seem to notice. She looked up at him; apparently he'd done a good job of hiding it on his face because Katie surely would have noticed that. And she kissed him.  
  
Almost instantaneously, Uncle pushed her away; I'd be surprised if she succeeded in actually kissing him. If she had looked she could have seen me, as I could now see her face from the angle Uncle was holding her out at. His hands were tightly clasped on her shoulders and Calli had a pained look on her face, as if his hands were hurting her.  
  
"What are you doing?" He asked, in Japanese, and then repeated himself in English.  
  
"You're hurting me," She squeaked, he let her go. "I was going to kill you, but you freaked out," She said and rubbed her shoulders.  
  
"Why on Earth would you do a thing like that?" He asked, I'd never seen Uncle loose his composure before, I guess having a high school girl come on to him was just too much.  
  
"Because I like you," She told him, "We've been talking for almost 5 hours, you can't tell me you don't feel something for me, I can see it in your eyes."  
  
"I don't see why you would like me," He said, ignoring the rest of her little speech.  
  
"Why? Because you're sophisticated and intelligent, not to mention obviously a successful politician! If you weren't her Uncle I'm sure even Calli couldn't resist you."  
  
He paused, took his glasses off, cleaned them, and stood up. "Good night," He said and headed towards the hallway. I didn't have time to hide, assuming that Farfarello's door was locked so I just had to stand there. Uncle didn't notice me until he was right in front of me. He looked up at me, paused and looked into my eyes, then walked past.  
  
"Ah, Uncle!" I called, realizing I needed him, "Where is that lemon tea?" I asked, trying to hide my face in the shadows.  
  
"With the Green Tea," He said without turning around and went into his room. I stood there for a second then went to the kitchen. Katie had started walking towards me by that time.  
  
"How much did you hear?" She asked.  
  
"I didn't hear anything," I told her and began preparing the water for my tea.  
  
"Liar," She said, but I didn't dignify her with an answer.  
  
She stood there for awhile just watching me, and then went into my room for bed. I stayed up for a lot longer, sitting on the leather couch holding my tea until it was getting cold. I didn't drink it; whatever made it make my throat feel better was missing, leaving it kind of gross.  
  
I thought for along time. About Katie and my Uncle and my Parents and even Omi. Amazingly enough I didn't cry at all when I thought about my parents. But I did when I thought of my Uncle. What if something happened to him? I couldn't figure out what I'd do if he went away.  
  
I bent over my tea and cried, until the sound of shattering glass cut into my thoughts. I saw nothing but the broken window when I looked up. Farfarello was the first one in the living room, he had either shed his straight jacket very quickly or wasn't wearing it because he stood there, clad in tight leather pants and no shirt with a long, wicked blade before I could even think to scream. In my shock that he was there so fast I almost forgot what had caused me to spill my luke-warm tea all over myself.  
  
It took almost as little time for the other three to make in to me. Uncle had a gun in his hand. Nagi and Shuldich had nothing, which surprised me, very ill-equipped for assassins. Katie, of course, was last. And the first to notice the arrow imbedded into the armchair that matched the couch., when she did see it, she screamed.  
  
* * * 


	17. Things I Don't Know

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt17  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: Hmph! This story is not dead! I just had writer's block. I still don't know where I'm going to go with this but it'll go somewhere. Not to mention I'm finding Calli to be a much more likable character for some reason. Perhaps he power just makes her someone I connect with. Though I don't quite know why. Whatever. I'm rambling and I'll Make a Man Out of You is playing. I have an urge to dance in circles. Too much energy. Story Part too soft. GWAE!  
  
I'm done now. I promise.  
  
* * *  
  
After the fact comments: (Weeks later when I calmed down and finally got this uploaded) I'll admit that sometimes it takes me a depressingly long time to upload chapters so to solve that problem I'm going to say this! If you want me to let you know when I upload e-mail me (KirigoeMimarin@yahoo.com), IM me (Wishy and Mima), or ICQ me (166340851 this method is preferred since it will send the messages to me when I get online regardless of whether or not I'm online when it's sent) Ok! Good. I have issues updating this fic since fanfictions are VERY difficult for me since I have this inherent fear that I'm offending someone with my crappy ass characterizations. And with that.  
  
THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND REVIEWING THIS!!! It makes me happy.  
  
* * *  
  
I didn't quite know what to do. My head felt faint, like I had vertigo. I was still in a crying state of mind, oblivious to everything that was happening around me. When I was finally shook back to my senses Katie was fainted on the floor. Uncle had his arms around me. Farfarello was poking at the arrow while Shuldich and Nagi both looked as if they were concentrating on something.  
  
"Uncle," I managed to spit out in English and resumed crying, "Oh Uncle, I'm so glad you're ok." I said without thinking. Uncle said nothing but Shuldich dropped his concentration and turned quickly to me. After a second Nagi brought himself back to the real world as well, shaking his head and crossing his arms in an annoyed fashion.  
  
"Stupid Bombay twit," He grumbled.  
  
"Nagi," Uncle said sternly, "Move Katie to a couch." Nagi scowled and simply went to the kitchen. Shuldich came over to me, taking me out of my Uncle's arms. I could almost sense an argument between them, even when no words were said. In the end it was Uncle who let go, giving me a gentle kiss on the edge of my lips as he went to pick up Katie. I didn't want to think of anything. I wrapped my arms around Shuldich and allowed him to carry me to my bedroom. He pulled back my blankets and curled up around me under the covers.  
  
"Will you be ok, Lieb?" He purred.  
  
"I will be fine," I told him.  
  
"Will you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You don't need to worry about us, Lieb, we'll survive." He whispered to me. I didn't answer right away. Instead my mind was filled with uncontrollable images of my family bleeding and in pain. Then the pictures were gone. In their place were images of everyone I cared about. Uncle. Nagi. Shuldich. Farfarello. Katie. My Parents.  
  
"I really loved them," I told Shuldich, meaning my parents.  
  
"I know."  
  
"They were my world."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Yet I don't miss them."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Yes. You know everything." I said mater-a-factly. He said nothing to this. He felt ashamed. For the first time in his life he felt like he was in the wrong, "I love how you know everything without my telling you." I told him and rolled over. I looked up at his beautiful blue eyes. I tilted my head up, and kissed him. He put his arms around me and kissed back. I didn't care about anything. I didn't care that Katie loved my darling Uncle. I didn't care that Uncle cared more for Nagi than me. I didn't care that Katie used men like tissues and was targeting those important to me. I didn't care that Farfarello was confused and hurting. I didn't care that my parents were dead. I didn't care that the world was so horrible to the ones I loved. All I cared about was Shuldich. And I didn't care that Shuldich didn't truly care about me. Yes, I was aware of everything around me, but I didn't care. I could feel how fragile Nagi was no matter how much he tried to hide it. I could feel how much Katie hated me. She always had. I could feel how much Uncle wanted me all to his own. I could feel how much Farfarello wanted to just be left alone, how much he hated only those who hated him. And I could feel how Shuldich wanted to care about someone. To connect with anyone. I was a poor substitute for him but he must have thought me better than nothing because his body acted like he loved me. Too bad he was broadcasting contempt in my direction. But I ignored it as I always ignored everything I knew. Everything people were trying to hide.  
  
Suddenly Uncle's feeling changed. I jerked away from Shuldich the change was so drastic. He was scared instead of worried. I jerked away from Shuldich, praying he felt it to. He didn't. But he felt it through me. He wasn't scared for Uncle. Only I was.  
  
My door slammed open. Uncle was there. He hurried to me, throwing his arms around me, ignoring Shuldich, who quickly got up and left. I didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't want to tell me. So I just let him hold me, allowed him to be scared. As he held me the fear subsided leaving only a feeling that he knew something I did not.  
  
* * * 


	18. Loosing Myself Then Finding Me Again

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt18  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes: Quite a long time again. Sorry about that. I've started keeping all my stories on floppy disks so I don't have to hunt down a disk then move the story when I'm trying to run out of the house. This presents a problem in two ways: 1- I don't look at my story folder everyday and think "I should be working on such-n-such." 2- I haven't marked any of the disks at all so if I want a story. I have to hunt down the disk.  
  
In other words: I suck. Sorry about that.  
  
* * *  
  
Uncle never told me why he changed so much. It was almost as if he didn't want me to know. I was glad he didn't tell me, if it spooked my unshakable Uncle then I was pretty sure it would terrify me. He never offered to tell me so I never had to tell him not to tell me.  
  
Katie left a few days later. She said she was afraid, afraid she would get hit by an errant arrow or something. But I could tell it hurt her horribly to see how everyone doted on me. She had just confessed to my Uncle that she loved him and here he was rushing to my side as if I was the only one who mattered. I can't say I was sad to see her go. We hugged like best friends and we both cried at the airport but there was no emotion behind it for either of us. This time all of my family (except Farfarello) went with me to the airport and they all three gave her an elegant bow on her departure, she didn't quite know what to do about it. Shuldich wiped my tears away and whispered in my head about a few of the lovers in the airport with us. Some of the stories he told me made it difficult not to giggle. Uncle hugged me like my heart was breaking. Nagi stayed back, as if he knew exactly what I was feeling better than even I did.  
  
* * *  
  
I never saw Katie again. Never heard from her. Never tried to get in contact with her. Something about the concept repulsed me, I was sick of the superficial person I had been and all Katie was doing was reminding me of it. And all I was doing for Katie was showing her who she could never live up to becoming. We were different and I'd never realized it before then.  
  
For several nights straight my Uncle buried himself in books without telling us what he was doing. When he finally emerged he was happier than I'd ever seen him before. Apparently he'd found a name for my brand of psychicness. I can't say I was overjoyed. But at least it gave Shuldich and I an excuse to lock ourselves in my room for hours. Ever since I'd kissed him an entirely new door had opened in our mini-relationship. I needed someone, anyone, and it didn't matter who. Shuldich was there and happily agreeable. Sometimes we did work, but rarely. He was truly amazing, exactly what I needed. He was experienced and had patience for my bumblings in both the bed and the studies he was supposed to be giving me. I was horrible with my psychic powers, so much so that when he was trying to test me I'd completely shut down. Sometimes I'd wonder if he actually seduced me because he wanted me or because when he'd mess with me I'd forget my lessons and my barriers would drop. He could feel everything about me and could slip in enough lessons that Uncle wouldn't get suspicious.  
  
Yet the feelings didn't dwindle. I'd never felt more lonely in my life and he had never hated anything more in his life.  
  
* * *  
  
Despite mine and his obvious feelings, Shuldich and I continued our not-so- secret love affair. We quickly learned to hate each other and outside the bedroom we began to behave like a textbook discontent couple. Most of our fights prickled along psychic lines (Another time I think Shuldich was goading me into lessons) which had the strange side effect of making the air so sensitive that everyone just wanted to crawl into bed with anyone who would. Shuldich and I had an image of what our relationship looked like. We honestly believed that no one knew. We thought we were so clever, hiding it so wonderfully. You'd think Shuldich being a telepath and me being whatever I am (Uncle called it Empathy with a hint of Telepathy. He's so obsessed with attaching names to things) would make it next to impossible for us to trick ourselves so completely, but we were both so good at it.  
  
Even more pathetic was the reality that we were both so incredibly miserable. I could feel it. He could feel it. I never satisfied him and he never claimed I did. No "You were great" or anything of the sort. Just kiss, cuddle, sleep. I tried once to magnify everything as Nagi had tried to teach me once (With a kiss, never anything more), absorbing what I was picking up from him and sending it back and repeating it until the feeling must have made him dizzy with pleasure, but it made no difference. I never got over the intense feeling of loneliness that he instilled in me. No matter how tightly he hugged or cuddled me or any of the psychic connections he tried to set up could ever remedy the feeling. I felt empty.  
  
We both felt worthless.  
  
So we stopped. No agreement, he just stopped coming to me and I stopped asking him to. It was hard and for months we would, without a word, clash together with such intensity that both of our sexual issues were temporarily forgotten.  
  
Uncle was so wonderful. He pretended to have no idea what was going on for the entire duration of our relationship.  
  
* * * 


	19. Pride

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt19  
  
* * *  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
I'm so happy! I was struggling for so long to come up with a plot and, yay!, I found one. I actually thought up this chapter while driving back from my first SCUBA dive with only half a fingernail on one toe and it throbbing. Originally this chapter was going to have Calli actually make a real friend but he got cut in favor of plot. But he was a fun character; I might bring him in anyway in the epilogue or something. His name was Adam and he amused me.  
  
* * *  
  
I wish I could say everything changed, that I had found my place and no longer needed Shuldich or my Uncle to tie me down, but that would be a lie. I couldn't feel my life changing, the world rotating to fit me. Nothing really changed, I just kind of stopped doing things the way I had before. I didn't change and the world didn't change, just my life, and I had come to learn that my life really doesn't matter all that much.  
  
"You haven't been here in a while," He said to me.  
  
"You are right, I have not been anywhere in a while, really," I told him. He just smiled and gave a little chuckle.  
  
"May I sit?" He motioned to the spot on the bench next to me. I just nodded, trying my hardest to remember where I knew him from, but no bells were ringing.  
  
"I am sorry," I preluded to my question, "I seem to have forgotten who you are."  
  
Luckily he laughed and smiled with his eyes more than with his face, it was an interesting expression I had never seen before. "Omi," He reminded me, "I work at the flower shop, you and Miss Katie came in a while back."  
  
"Ah, yes," I knew I should say something but there was nothing to say. So there we sat; a silence so thick between us that I felt rooted in place, unable to move. He kept glancing at me, as if trying to think of something, anything, to say. Or perhaps he was thinking something else entirely.  
  
Suddenly I wasn't in the park anymore, I couldn't fell the bench under me anymore, I was standing up, standing in front of a silver refrigerator with the freezer on the left instead of the top. There was a strange noise and I jumped despite not actually being startled, as if my body was moving without me. I reached out, grabbing the wooden handle of a spatula that was lying on the stove nearby, comforted by the weight of the metal in my hand. I tried to pull my mind together, tried to concentrate hard enough to do any of the things Shuldich had forced me to learn but none of it worked, my mind felt too far away from my body. And the noise was coming closer. I spun around trying to find the noise. Silver glinted in front of my face and then was gone, before I could react or scream I couldn't, I felt like I was dying. I couldn't breathe and warm blood dribbled down my neck. I was dying.  
  
And the feeling was gone, replaced now with a strong feeling of loathing. I was in a dark place and in front of me was Omi.  
  
The two images and feelings suddenly crashed together, dying and hating flashing together, a strobe light of things.  
  
"Get away from me!" I began screaming, over and over, clawing in front of me as if to kill Omi, to perhaps dislodge the person choking me.  
  
Pain shot from somewhere new. A pain more real and a pain that wasn't really a pain at all. It appeared and before I could even register where it came from I was filled with darkness, a complete darkness. A blessed darkness where time didn't exist. I could have sat in that darkness for several hours or several seconds and I couldn't tell the difference. I never wanted to leave, the darkness filling me like Shuldich never had, loving me like no one ever had.  
  
"What happened?" A voice asked in the darkness.  
  
"Happened?" I asked but the darkness drank up my voice and nothing came out.  
  
"I don't know!" A different voice responded, a voice I knew I should recognize, "She just started screaming and thrashing around so I freaked!"  
  
"You just knocked her out and dragged her back here?" another voice asked, were there three?  
  
"No," The voice I knew argued, "I told everyone she was having an episode, that they happened a lot, and someone helped me bring her here."  
  
"Wonderful," The first voice grumbled.  
  
Light flared when I tried to move. My eyelids fluttered and let light in, a dim light, but compared to the darkness it was blinding and hurt. I just closed them against the light and tried to stretch a cramp in my leg. It didn't work. Without even noticing that the voices had died, I twisted my neck, it hurt like nothing else had in my entire life. It hurt to breathe as if I had been chocked, had been dying. Finally I opened my eyes, two men were standing in the room, I recognized neither of them. Weren't there three? I flexed my arms, just to find them tied behind me, not just stiff like every other part of me.  
  
I looked at the blonder of my two guards and suddenly knew. Knew everything, he seemed to transmit everything to me the same way Shuldich would with pictures and words during our exercises.  
  
"Did he scream?" I asked him. He didn't looked shocked or confused, just shook his head.  
  
"No, he was a very strong man. You should be proud."  
  
* * * 


	20. Killing Me

Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder  
  
pt20  
  
* * *  
  
I found myself unable to take my eyes off this man, the one who killed my father. I wanted to scream or cry or show some sort of emotion, but I couldn't bring myself to. I, instead, opened myself to this man as Shuldich had taught my. I could feel that the man wanted to be heartless, but this was simply a desire that masked his true feelings. Under everything I felt something too complex for me to understand completely.  
  
"Say it," I told him, using my powers to make sure that he not only knew what I was talking about but to make sure he answered me.  
  
"You should have died," he admitted, a lock of blond hair falling into his eyes, "then you wouldn't be here."  
  
"Do you pity me?" I asked but before the man could answer, Omi and a brunette pushed between us. Practiced, I shut myself off and let the man's mind go hoping that he wouldn't suspect I had any powers at all. The brunette began checking my eyes and poking at me but I was tuning him out. I could feel myself shutting down and I couldn't allow that.  
  
"What do you want from me?" I found myself whispering over and over again in English. I was screaming commands but my body was reluctant to follow my brain. Finally I managed to whisper it once in Japanese.  
  
"Schwartz cannot be allowed to become stronger," Omi whispered to me in a quivering voice as if he as afraid I might hear him. "Your death was supposed to cripple the Prophet."  
  
"You should have died," the blonde man repeated.  
  
"An oversight," The last, a red head, said, finally speaking. From a dark sheath he pulled a long sword in a fluid motion. I did the only thing I could think to do: I screamed. I threw myself into that scream, forgetting everything else. My shields fell and the four men's emotions threatened to overtake mine. I could feel tears on my cheeks and could hear my pitifully childish voice still screaming. But I was elsewhere, cuddled up in the back of my head where they couldn't hurt me. 


	21. Omi

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder  
  
* * *  
  
pt.21  
  
I think I passed out, so much crying and screaming on a weak head proved to be too much for my body.  
  
I awoke a second time in that dark room but now I was lying on something comfortable and there was a light singing. At first I imagined my father, petting my hair and singing me to sleep but it wasn't his voice, this one was higher and sounded almost like gibberish for several seconds until I understood it. I opened my eyes to look up at Omi who was softly singing a practiced song.  
  
"My parents died when I was young," He told me after he'd fallen silent.  
  
"Did they?" I asked.  
  
"No," he admitted, "But I know what you're going through."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Yes," Omi said. I would have pressed harder but he didn't want to talk about it any further. I considered faking ignorance and asking anyway but there was a sea of pain inside him that I had no desire to explore with a killer, no matter how angelic his face. I could feel him creeping towards that pain every second I was quiet and I knew I had to distract him.  
  
"Who is Schwartz?" I asked, the first thing that came to mind.  
  
"Schwartz?" he repeated, "You don't know?"  
  
"No."  
  
He was silent for a second before: "They're a group of assassins with unnatural powers."  
  
I got what he was trying to say immediately. He was careful to give me just enough information to fill in the blanks but not enough that he was actually telling me anything. Luckily I had the blanks to fill in.  
  
"What are they called that?" I asked.  
  
"It means 'black', they are the black."  
  
"And you are?"  
  
"The white, the Weiß."  
  
"Yes," I agreed, remembering suddenly that Shuldich had told me this before, "Yes, I know this."  
  
"You would."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I don't know." Omi admitted letting the room once again sink into silence. And in that silence I saw my way out.  
  
"I am very lucky, really," I told him, "My father loved me and my mother tried to and now my Uncle and all of them love me as well."  
  
Omi was dead silent.  
  
"Do you mind if I just talk?" I asked, not expecting an answer and not getting one. "It feels nice to talk about my father. He was so kind, so simple. He worked so hard to give me everything, of course he never could, we would never be rich enough, but he tried. He died thinking of me, I know this now. Even in death I was his most important thing, his final thought." 


	22. Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

I greatly appreciate the support and comments that have been blessed to me for this story over the years. It is extremely unusual for a story such as this to continue collecting comments and interest after so much time. Honestly I was impressed that this story garnered any interest at all, especially repeated interest, due to the fact that most fanfictions are read then forgotten or not read at all if they have more then a chapter or two. But in many ways I'm not surprised. I was very proud of this story as an example of my best writing. As well as Calli being a very fun character to read and write.

Unfortunately I have discontinued this story for now. Too much has changed in my life and my writing. For one I have since graduated high school and now work for a living which takes up a great deal more time then idly sitting in a classroom writing constantly while learning passively. When I was active in writing this story I would often times write and rewrite a single chapter countless times over the course of a week during almost every class I had during the day. (Which I don't recommend. Learning can be so much fun and now that I'm not actively doing it on a daily basis I wish I'd spent more time listening and less time writing.) Now writing a chapter would take me months of semi-constant work due to time constraints and the fact that my opinion of my own writing has become much more demanding of excellence. Even if I was to try and continue this story I'm afraid the writing style would be so drastically different that it would appear to be a different person. One of the things I love so much about Calli is that she is consistent in her voice.

I wish I could now explain what the rest of the story was going to be but I really can't. Beauty is a story that I flew with by the seat of my pants. It was, at many points, as if Calli was telling me her story and I was simply transcribing it. Thus I rarely knew what was going to happen until I was halfway through writing it. The only thing I do know is a random out of place chapter I wrote at one point describing Calli at a party dressed in a flamboyant red wig and collecting information about a group of spoiled rich girls while psychically communicating with Shuldich. It was an interesting chapter that seemed to have little to do with anything and I probably would have used it as a sort of epilogue to describe what Calli did after whatever events in the story conspired. There was also a plan to, at one point, have Calli return to the United States.

It is possible I will pick up this story at one point or another. I do have a history of stealing old storylines of mine and rewrite them in what I assume to be better writing. I did rewrite this story once about a year after it began and continued from there. I at one point toyed with the idea of taking this story and another story from a different canon and rewriting them to be my own due to the merit of the inserted characters but instead chose the other, an Angel story I had been tossing around but never wrote as a fanfiction.

I want to stress again how much I appreciate anyone reading this since, as it is the last chapter, it means you have enjoyed my story enough to get to this point.

As a story written to be read you have given myself and this story all the merit it will ever need.

Thank you.


	23. Untitled Snippet 1

Author's note: After going through my files I stumbled upon several "scraps" of chapters. Points where I had sat down and written something that either didn't fit or would later. Since I have already declared the unlikelyness that I will continue writing this story I feel its fair to post these little snippets of story that never were. This snippet takes place during the time when Calli is in the custody of Weiss. This was supposed to be done very early, before she realizes who killed her parents but I decided that it was just a tad too disturbing. I'm not entirely sure why. Possibly because I wasn't positive that Calli could deal with it in such a way that would lead smoothly into the escape plan I had planned. After her dealings with Weiss Shuldich was going to slip into her mind and basically they were going to trade bodies. Calli would spent about an hour back in the apartment where she tells Crawford that she loves him (Which I felt was very important since I was going to make a point that neither of them say a word about loving each other in their own bodies) while Shuldich finds a way out. It was sweet but kina random since it implied that not only did Weiss leave Calli unattended for a semi-long period of time but also that in a semi-short period of time Shuldich can find a way out of Weiss's "prison" and out onto the streets. But since it never got properly written its unimportant.

Suddenly I was overcome with a feeling of calm. I was no longer drowning in the feelings and memories that he had been throwing at me to try and throw me off. I was in the shadows now, no longer sitting on a hard cement floor. I was calm and collected and could sit for hours. I could sit for days if I had to, waiting for my prey. Waiting for the precise second to jump.

"Where is Calli?" A female voice asked. I recognized my mother's voice.

"She's still at school," my father said. I couldn't see him but I instinctively reached out for him. But there was nothing. My senses were deadened. It felt wrong, my psychic ability had always been there but it wasn't anymore. I was cut off.

"She should be home by now," my mother said. I heard her walking. She was in the kitchen. And I was in the kitchen closet.

"She'll be home later," my father told her.

"Why is she still at school?"

"She just is. Don't worry about it."

My body twitched. It was nearly time and I could feel it. My prey was almost ready. It made me sick to feel this way. Thinking of my parents as mice that were getting closer and closer to the trap turned my stomach but I still didn't move. I couldn't move. Actually I could move. My muscles were coiling tighter and tighter. I was becoming a spring and there was nothing I could do about it.

I heard my mother scream and I jumped. The door sprung open and the bright light blinded me. But it didn't faze me, this was to be expected and I knew what I was doing. There was something between my hands and the scream died but when my vision cleared I wasn't looking at what I was holding. I felt flesh give under my claws but I was looking at my father. He didn't look scared as life was squeezed out of him. He had a look of peace, like he had been waiting for this moment his entire and it was a relief to not live with this anymore.

I couldn't handle it anymore. I tried to jump back to myself. But something was holding me. I was no longer in control. The mind I had infiltrated was holding me, making me see. I tried to close my eyes but they weren't my eyes to close. I couldn't tear away from my father's face, even as it turned lifeless and he collapsed to the floor. When I finally looked away I tuned to see my mother. She was passed out but not dead. I watched as my hands ripped at her and tore her flesh to a slashed mess.

"Where is she?" someone was asking.

"He tricked us," someone else said, "she's not here."

"Let's get out of here," I said.

"Why?"

"He set us up, we need to get out of here."

Then the world went black. I was released but still passed out.


	24. Untitled Snippet 2

Author's Notes: This was supposed to be the beginning of the end of the story. Theres a significant chunk of explanation missing that I had hand written. I went looking for the notebook I was pretty sure it was in but as an avid writer I have more notebooks filled with writing then I own clothes and, since I just moved, most of everything I own is still in boxes. I couldn't find the notebook but I did find several other things including a glass picture frame with my bare foot which wasn't very much fun.

In that missing part Calli meets an aloof boy named Matt who is American like herself. They strike up an uneasy friendship. They're both eager to be able to converse with another person speaking English but Calli is worried about exposing too much about her new family and Matt is reluctant to let anyone come too close because he moves around a lot. There was also implications that this "friendship" really pisses off Nagi.

I went straight to my room that night. It wasn't that I wasn't hungry but all day there'd been this tickling at the back of my head and it was exhausting me faster then any psychic ability I'd ever tried. There were pieces. I could feel it in the marrow of my bones where only I lived. Everything was falling into place and I knew something. I'd figured something out. But my head was so filled with empathy I couldn't see it. Somewhere along the way I'd lost the deductive reasoning that normal people used to do what I normally relied on my abilities. It wasn't gone, just mashed below so much other training that it couldn't surface and I was hard pressed to dig it out.

It took me over an hour to manually pull out each piece of the puzzle and spin them around until they fit. And when I'd finally drawn out the picture I sat for a second, dumbfounded at what I saw. The next thing I knew I was throwing open my uncle's door hard enough to slam it into the wall behind. He was sitting at his desk in the corner looking at something I didn't even notice and didn't react when I came in. I'd never barged into his room like this and the oddness and wrongness hissed through me, but I ignored it, just stared, wordless, at my uncle's profile across the room.

"You can't," I finally spit out. It was a fight to get the words through my strangled throat but I did it. And suddenly it was easy to speak again. But the words still lingered out of my reach. "You can't do this," I said again.

"Calli," my uncle said and looked away.

"This diplomat," I said as I walked over to him, "he's someone's father. He's someone's son. How can you… They killed my father."

He didn't say anything, just turned to look at me with nothing in his eyes. He'd never done that before. There was always something there when he looked at me. I remembered my father doing that. The dead empty eyes. I saw some of my father in him then. I hadn't considered that. They were brothers but my uncle had always struck as so very much him that there could be no one like him, especially not my father. But there it was. That look. The one my father gave me when I got caught shop lifting and then later when I came home drunk for the first time and every other time when I screwed up and there was no justification. Not a look of disgust or pity or even disappointment. Just nothing. It took everything out of me and I was stuck standing there trying to justify myself with nothing to do it with while he just looked at me.

"Everyone is someone's father," he said after a second and pulled my over so I was sitting on his lap with his arms around me, "or someone's son or daughter or husband or wife."

"I know, I just…"

"What makes this one different?"

"Tell me why he has to die and I'll tell you why he can't."

"He's here to speak for a policy that'll hurt Takatori."

"That's all?" I found myself getting angry again, "You're going to kill him because it might hurt this guy's business?" I was definitely getting angry. And it wasn't just my anger I was feeling. "That's nothing. That's stupid and…"

"It's not supposed to be fair," he cut me off, "you think we do anything because it's fair?"

"But…"

"But nothing, Calli. I'm sorry if you don't like it but that's the way it is."

And I started crying. It came out of nowhere. I wasn't even sure why I was crying. Probably the same reason I was angry. The childish part of me that desperately wanted the world to be a certain way that was constantly being let down. I wanted a world where the people I cared about were happy and, hell, even the people I didn't care about. A world with no war where everyone grew flowers and would happily sing a round of It's a Small World. Instead I got this. A world where my parents were killed and I fall in love with the same sort of people who did it and my friends all either leave, change, or wind up with their parents killed. It sucked and it wasn't fair and I cried over it. For all those childish dreams I should have abandoned a long time ago but no one ever truly does.

Uncle held me through it all. My heaving sobs that shook my shoulders and into the silent trickling of tears as I clung to him, too wrung out to cry anymore but couldn't stop. Schuldich always spoke to me, telling me it was ok, but Uncle just held me. He didn't try and chase the shadows away, instead letting me adjust to them.

"Ask me again not to and I won't," he said finally. I should have been shocked but I wasn't, "I'll call it off, Calli, just tell me to."

"No," I said instead, "I won't." I thought about it for a second. Not the situation or my own but the words I wanted to say and wondered if I should. And I did. "I want in."

"In on what?"

"This," I had buried my face in the crook of his neck before but now I pulled it out and looked right at him, "Matt's father, the diplomat. I want to be a part of it."

"I love you, Calli," he said without answering me, "Sometimes I think you were sent here to be my conscience. The contract isn't to kill the diplomat."

"What do you mean?"

"It's to intimidate him," Uncle reached around me to pull the file off the desk, "don't answer now." He handed me the file. I stared at it for a second, part of me wanting to drop it like it might burn me. But instead I took it with me as I left the room.

Author's Notes cont: After this chapter Calli becomes an unofficial member of the team. Shes given the job of basically snaking her way into Matt's life and, not only spying, but leaving little hints to Matt's father that if he doesn't back off his son is going to come to an untimely end. Using Calli to send this message had the double bonus of not only having her already be Matt's friend but also driving the message home to the father that assassins can be anywhere and everywhere and theres nothing he can do since even this seemingly sweet innocent girl is a threat.

I also toyed with the idea that Weiss kidnaps Matt to keep him safe then Calli sends a ransom note, knowing it will get under Omi's skin, which Matt's father refuses to pay so an undecided member of Weiss flips and kills Matt's father. (Due to Omi's history)


	25. Untitled Snippet 3

Author's Notes: As I mentioned in my letter this is the weird scene of Calli undercover I was considering using as an epilogue. Mostly due to the fact that it really has no point whatsoever. It was fun writing her as a woman confident in her powers and in herself, to a point. But it has absolutely no plot, even compared to the original story.

My driver didn't want to be there. I could feel it coming off him in waves. He didn't want to be driving and he didn't want to be driving me and, more then anything else, he didn't want to be pulling up to this building. It was distracting and I found it difficult not to say something. I don't know what I wanted to say but the feelings bubbled around in my mind trying to form words and it took more and more energy not to let them come out of my mouth. Getting out when the man outside opened the door was a relief. Even if it did present a whole new set of problems.

As I stepped out I tried to be confident. Tried to hold my chin up high. In the end I was forced to push it all down and dip into the deep well of dark power within me to slam a tight shield of complete self assuredy. That helped. I could feel it. Could feel my whole body relaxed and I felt my hands slip off my skirts and settle at my waist. Suddenly the people around me dressed in their finest didn't look beautiful anymore. They paled in comparison to me.

The man at the door of the hotel looked me up and down with a glare. I stared down my nose at him with my false security despite him being taller then me. He then looked down at his clip board and waited.

"Caroline Mason," I told him. He flicked through the list and then opened the door for me. The first step was done. As I stepped through the open doors I felt better. He had believed me. He had looked at me and seen Caroline Mason. That was enough. Only problem was that every hurdle I jumped I was presented with an even harder feat.

I walked like a zombie as I put all my attention to slipping back into that well and pulling out a chunk of power. Then I pushed it all out so it filled the whole building with one singular message. I am here.

Immediately I felt a presence tapping at me, I opened myself and felt Shuldich settle into a corner of my mind. He was confident and that helped. He was completely sure that this would work. I had to have that surety. He let me latch onto it for a minute before pushing me aside.

_You can do this,_ he told me, _I know you can. You know you can._ I don't know if he put any power in those words but I did know I could. Perhaps being told I did did it. Perhaps he was playing mind games with me. I didn't care.

I scanned the room I entered out of instinct. Scanning faces looking for someone I recognized. Then again I doubted anyone would recognize me even if I did know anyone, I barely saw me when I looked in the mirror before leaving. In that glance of the room I saw so much and so little.


End file.
